Bryter Layter: Assorted chapters.
by not rave
Summary: The second five parts of BL, in one enormous file for your convenience. With rather important AN.
1. Default Chapter Title

*ahem* hello. i am rave. and this is not the account i've been using! it's a bad, evil account which came out of nowhere, and was created on one of those weird ff.n offdays when the obscure bird croaks all through the night and horses eat each other and so on. SO IF YOU HAVE "RAVE" ON AUTHORALERT, IT WON'T WORK. it will only give you authoralerts for THIS account, which i don't want to use because it's evil and i only figured out how to access it today. i'm only going to use it to post up these two BL volumes, and then i'm going back to my trusty old one. so if you want me on authoralert (oh, you do? *blush blush blush*) (what do you mean, you don't?!) you have to actually write out "fireflymoon@usa.net" in the little blank and then it ought to work. sorry, sorry, sorry! 

  
  


(note on TLL: it's coming, i swear. just really really slowly. and i'm WAY behind on reviewing the fics i want to review--cassie and al, i'm looking at you.)

  
  


-rave

offtopic

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bryter Layter: Volume Two

Daylight Fading

  
  


* * *

Part VI: The Sleeper Awakened

* * *

"...And I discovered Mr. Potter there, and Mr. Snape, robes torn, with him...It is my belief that Potter forced his fellow student into this fight, hoping to lure him into trouble...he has been caught doing things of this nature before.."

For once in his life, Severus Snape didn't look--or feel--smug. He was staring out the window of Dumbledore's office, his thoughts in turmoil, unable to look across the room at James Potter, who had gone white under his deep tan at Rookwood's accusations.

Dumbledore turned to James, the lines in his face worn and severe. "Is this true, James?"

"No, sir," James managed.

"But you were out of bed..."

James took a deep breath, trying to steady his still-jangling nerves. "Yes, Professor."

"Severus?"

The darker boy roused himself, still unable to think straight. "Sir?"

"Can you explain this?" Dumbledore watched him, his blue eyes not straying from Snape's black ones. "Why were the two of you out of bed? You must understand...the consequences for Mr. Potter's actions could be severe..."

_Lie,_ Snape told himself furiously. _'Severe penalties.' Get that stupid git expelled once and for all, him and his stupid friends too if they want to follow him..._But he couldn't make himself. He opened his mouth; only a squeak came out. "I..."

The room was silent. _Just say he provoked you! Say he threatened you, say he insulted Gretchen, say anything..._

"He--he was saving my life, sir." _Oh, God!_ He regretted the words the instant they exited his mouth. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he berated himself furiously, taking in Rookwood's aghast gasp and Dumbledore's sharp intake of breath. _I can still get Black_, he thought with some grim satisfaction. "I...I was curious about what happened to Loop--er, Lupin, sir...Sirius Black told me how to get in, so I took his advice. Potter must have realized what the consequences would be...he came after me." 

"Why, Mr. Snape," asked Dumbledore gently, "were you so curious about Mr. Lupin's state of health?"

"I...I just wanted to know, sir. He's--sir, you know he's a _werewolf_? I can't believe you'd accept that kind of--"

"He was trying to get Remus expelled!" James burst out, unable to bite his lip at this.

"Whom I accept at this school is my concern, Mr. Snape, not yours," said Dumbledore firmly, turning to James. "And Mr. Potter, please refrain from--"

He never got any further. A furious pounding was heard on the door to the office--that of a frustrated someone attempting to figure out the password. 

"Open," said Dumbledore carefully, turning towards the portal. A creak was heard; a moment later, pounding up the staircase, Sirius came into view, clutching at a stitch in his chest and breathing hard. He skidded to a halt in front of Dumbledore's desk, gasping out, "I...told Snape how to get out...James didn't know anything about it...Nor Remus...just me...Because of what he said...about Ani..."

Dumbledore had heard that before. Somehow, Sirius always took the blame for everything; he didn't seem to mind too much, as it meant he also got most of the credit for it. He was always the first to sacrifice his own innocence for the sake of a guilty friend, cheerfully and even without thought. Now, though, he seemed almost desperate, his usually-laughing face as far from cheer as the Headmaster had ever seen it. Dumbledore was quite inclined to believe him.

"Mr. Black, please sit down for a moment." Sirius collapsed into a chair, his breath burning in his throat. "I find myself believing you, but your confession does not excuse your actions."

"He could have killed Severus!" yelped Professor Rookwood, his rod-thin body trembling in rage.

"_He could have kiwwed Sevewus,_" Sirius mimicked under his breath. "_Poor ickle Sevvie_."

"Yes, Augustus, but you must admit Severus was not entirely blameless himself..." Dumbledore turned piercing blue eyes on his students, making all three of them shrink back slightly in their armchairs. "Mr. Black, you deliberately endangered another student's life. That is no small crime. Such an action could result in suspension, or even expulsion, from Hogwarts." James was on his feet in an instant, while Sirius went very, very white and Snape squirmed happily in his chair. "However, I must admit it seems that your motivation was not entirely meaningless. I will _not_ expel you, but I will be observing your actions _very _closely from now on." His eyes twinkled for a moment. "Your urge to defend your friends is almost...admirable, though the circumstances seem to suggest that if I say anything complimentary about you, Augustus here will strangle me with his bare hands." Rookwood was, indeed, looking positively murderous. "Thirty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Black, and detention for one week." He turned to Snape now, lined face enigmatic. "Mr. Snape, you tried to get a fellow student expelled--not as serious an offense as Mr. Black's, but certainly nothing to be proud of. In addition, you _were_ out of bed past curfew, which merits a point deduction of its own. Detention for three days, and twenty points from Slytherin."

And now he turned to James. A faint smile lit his features, surprising his student with its quirkiness. "As for you, Mr. Potter, you too were out of bed past curfew time...but your actions showed an amazing amount of courage. Risking a life for a friend is one thing...for an enemy, quite another. Only one in a thousand has that fortitude."

_Damnit!_ cursed Snape furiously, knowing what was coming. _Why didn't I lie to them?_

"Forty-five points to Gryffindor--" Rookwood made a strangled sort of noise "--but I'm afraid I'm forced to also punish you for not being in bed. Five days of detention. And I'm going to have to ask _all _of you--" his gaze rested particularly on Snape "--not to mention what happened last night. Mr. Lupin's condition is a secret, and I intend for it to remain so. If I hear that any part of this rumor has leaked out, I will have to take _extremely_ drastic action."

_I hate them_, thought Snape furiously, raging and humiliated. _I hate them all. Potter, Black, Lupin, Whitby, Donelan, Pettigrew, all of them. I'll make them pay. God, I'll get them back!_

But when he looked at James, something twinged in his guts.

* Moony Blues whapped her feline head into the door, trying to get out. She was not, perhaps, the smartest specimen of cat; though pretty, she had an alarming tendency towards banging into things and eating everything. Anika had already had to put a Repellius Hex on every piece of furniture in the dormitory, to prevent Moony from gnawing on them. 

Right now, though, even Moony's actions couldn't cheer her up. Rather, they sent her deeper into depression, thinking about the other Moony, wondering where he was.

_It's been a week_, she thought miserably. _The moon _must_ have waned by now. Isn't he going to come back?_

Just for a change of scene, she opened the door and stepped outside. Moony, who had been building up momentum for a particularly ferocious attack on it, skidded out into the hallways and tumbled down the stairs, landing with a faint squeak on the landing, her green eyes dazed and slightly crossed.

"Hey, Ani," Erin called, waving to her from across the common room. Anika waved back, rather halfheartedly. "Your boyfriend's waiting for you outside--he must be back..."

"Oooh, he came to see you first thing," sighed a third-year, romantically.

"Oh," Anika said, her heart fairly beating out of her chest. "So he's out in the corridor, is he?"

"Yeah," Erin confirmed, and went back to filing her nails.

Anika almost flew out the statue passage, dashing into the hallway as fast as she could. Remus stood there, the bones of his face pronounced and haggard, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than they had ever seemed before. Somehow, to her, he looked more handsome than he ever had.

She wrapped herself around him, trying not to sob as his strong hands came up behind her back and she felt his ragged breathing in her ear, and she was whispering over and over "I love you, I love you..."

He pulled himself free of her, still grasping her wrists, took a deep, shuddering breath and, in tones that sounded as though they were being dragged out of him with grappling hooks, said: "Ani, I don't think we should...should see each other anymore."

Anika froze, stunned. She felt as though she had been kicked in the throat. "Wh-what? Is this about--your--because you know I go through a similar thing once a month, and I'm almost as unpleasant--" She forced a laugh, but he would have none of it.

Remus closed his eyes, and she could hear the harsh pain in his voice as he went on. "I never want anything to happen like--like what happened the other night. I couldn't stand _ever_ thinking I could be capable of hurting you like that. You could never totally trust me again--"

Her heart seemed to have suddenly stopped working. "Of course I trust you, Remus, you're still _you_, you haven't changed--"

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you."

She impulsively put one hand up to his cold cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Please...please..."

He looked away. "I'm sorry, Ani--Oh god, I'm sorry..." and then he fled down the corridor, leaving her staring after him, a strange buzzing in her ears and a leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Slowly, her hand dropped to her side.

*

"Moony, what's wrong?" asked James gently, nudging his friend in the side with his elbow and noticing, not for the first time, the excessive whispering and hate-filled glares of the Ravenclaw girls on the other side of the dining room. "Come on, tell us."

"Yeah, Moony, buck up," Sirius said comfortingly, putting an arm around Remus's shoulders. "Can't be that bad. Think about everything good around here--Snape got the scare of his life, I didn't get expelled--"

"That's not so great," muttered James.

"--James earned us points out the arse, and Ani's still absolutely mad over you--"

Without warning, Remus got up, shrugging away the comforting hands, and left. 

Sirius watched, open-mouthed.

James pointed in the direction of the Ravenclaw girls, who were now watching Remus race for the door as though he were some particularly nasty sort of bug. "Ani's not sitting there," he whispered to Sirius. "You don't suppose they--"

Sirius sighed and got to his feet. "I'll go talk to him." _This has been a really rotten week._

He found Remus back in the Gryffindor common room, his head in his hands. "'Lo, Sirius."

"What happened between you and Ani?" asked Sirius, as kindly as he could.

Remus looked up, flashing him a wan smile. "Trust you to get right to the point, Padfoot..."

Sirius crossed his arms.

"I told her I thought we shouldn't see each other any more," recited Remus in a dull voice. "I told her I didn't want her to get hurt..."

"But she's in love with you! Don't you _understand_ that?"

Remus stared at him, his amber eyes tortured. "Of course I do. I mean, think I do...I don't want her to die for me--because of me. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone before, and I don't know how to deal with it...but I had to. I had to let her go. I didn't want to hurt her..." he repeated, trying to screw up his face against the howling tempest of rage and anguish that was threatening to overwhelm him from the inside.

"You're being dense," said Sirius shortly. "She doesn't care about your stupid lycanthropy any more than I do. She's smart enough not to let herself get hurt. If you throw her away now, you're losing the best thing you've ever had. You know that perfectly well."

"_You_ don't know what you're talking about," said Remus wearily. "What if I keep this up? What if I keep trying until we leave school? What if I try to--you know, some analysts and researchers say that any kind of prolonged contact can pass on the disease. What if we get so attached that she thinks she can get through to me even when I'm a wolf? If we reach that level of trust--"

"She's not _stupid_," said Sirius patiently.

"Stupid has nothing to do with it," Remus said, staring at the floor. "Whenever I get attached to people, they get hurt."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Sirius said bluntly, a part of him wondering _Why are you trying to help him get her back? Can't you tell what she means to you?_ He squashed it, firmly. "I'm not hurt. Prongs isn't hurt. Wormtail isn't hurt. Go back to her, you witless prat...tell her you didn't mean what you said..."

"Sirius, I did mean it." Remus stood up slowly, picking up his books. "I'm not going to take the risk of hurting her just because of my own selfishness." He pushed past his friend, clambered out the still-open portrait hole, and was gone.

*

He didn't have the chance to speak to Ani until that night--she didn't come to Arithmancy, lunch, or dinner, and whenever he tried to sneak down the corridors to the Ravenclaw tower, Professor Rookwood always seemed to be there. Sirius had the unpleasant feeling that the man was spying on him. After dinner, though, he convinced James to lend him the invisibility cloak, pulled it on, and hurried silently towards her common room.

The eagle statue glared impassively at him. What had the password been? "_Asphodel_," he muttered, and the thing creaked open. He snuck inside.

Though the room was full of people, no one seemed to have noticed his entrance; they were all too deeply involved in conversations of their own. Catching the word "Ani", he quickly crept over to a group of girls sitting by the fire.

"--Didn't even come to Quidditch practice, Erin. I'm worried about her."

"She's not up in the dorm?"

"No...I checked there. She's gone off somewhere to cry, probably...not that I blame her..."

"I just can't even _imagine_. Remus Lupin! Dumping her like a bad habit. He always seemed so _sweet_."

"And they were _such_ a cute couple. So devoted to each other. It was like they were _married_."

"I always thought she and Sirius Black would end up together, actually..."

Sirius moved quickly away, not really wanting to know where this conversation was going. Of course, girls would pair up their friends with almost _anyone_ in their imaginations, but still...So Ani wasn't up in the dorms at all. Where would she go...if she wanted to be alone...

It struck him like a lightning bolt. He'd told her about where Remus went, when he had to transform...what better place, Ani would think, to hide?

He crept out the exit again. This time, several people noticed the hole opening and closing for no apparent reason, but chalked it up to a ghost and went back to their own business.

The grounds were absolutely still. There was no wind, and even the Whomping Willow was absolutely unmoving. _Well, of course it is, idiot_, he thought impatiently. _She's been in there since this morning._

Snatching up a stick from the ground, he moved cautiously towards the still-dormant tree--just before it began to whip around, trying to get at him, he poked the knot and it went back to sleep. He sighed in relief. _I needn't have worried...if Snape could get in, there's no reason I shouldn't be able..._

Hurriedly, he jumped between the roots and into the tunnel towards Hogsmeade.

  
  


The door to the Shrieking Shack hung loosely on its hinges. Yanking off the invisibility cloak, Sirius pushed it gently open, where it swung, creaking, for a moment. Crossed the scarred, pocked floor, and tiptoed up the stairs into the bedroom.

On the ravaged four-poster in the corner of the room, there lay a tiny lump of miserable robes and black hair, back to him.

"Go away," said the lump forlornly, in a muffled sort of way.

"I won't," Sirius said stubbornly. "Not until you talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about." Sniff. "Please go away."

"Ani, it wasn't about you."

"Oh, wasn't it?" she said bitterly, rolling over to face him. Her eyes were dry, but every line of her face was heartbroken. "I told him I didn't care that he was a werewolf, I told him it didn't matter...he didn't listen. Oh, _God_," and she buried her face in the mattress, trying desperately not to cry. "I failed him, Sirius...I ran away when he needed me..."

He sat down beside her, a gentle, comforting weight on the bed. "Of course you didn't fail him, Ani. None of this was your fault. It's just...you mean more to him than anything in the world, and he's so afraid of hurting you that he can't be close to you." He pulled her upright, leaning her against him. Now she really was crying... "Shh," he said softly, moving her disheveled hair out of her face. "It's going to be all right, somehow. I don't know how, but it's going to be all right...God, you mean the world to him, Ani, you know that. Even if you can't be...that way...you can always be friends..."

"I don't _want _to be friends!" she wailed in misery, hiding her face in his shoulder. "I want to be _loved._"

"You are," Sirius whispered, and something in him that wanted, more than anything, to protect her, moved--he reached out for her, his arms going around her. And then, before he knew what was happening, he was kissing her.

He'd never been kissed that way, and he'd been kissed often enough to know the difference. Anika smelled, tasted, like the wind off the sea, salty and wild and beautiful--her lips were wet and smooth with tears, hard and demanding and yet soft, yielding...he wanted nothing more than this, this sweet electrifying bite that swept through him with every touch. "Ani," he whispered softly against her mouth, his arms tightening around her.

She entwined her long fingers in his smooth hair, bringing him closer still, melting against him, feeling her sorrow and pain wash through her in a blazing, intoxicating wave, forgetting who she was and what she was, remembering only _him..._

*

The warm, soft weight of her in his arms brought him back to reality, to the cold, hard bed and the dark, boarded-in room. She pressed herself against him, and he held her closer, pushing a soft, fat tendril of hair out of her face, pushing down the beginnings of the feelings that threatened him...willing himself to think only of her.

Sirius found himself quite unable to understand his own feelings. It had something to do with his proximity to Ani--there was something about her that he couldn't quite hold on to, something strong and luminous and indescribably _good_, something he could spend a lifetime adoring and never quite define. She glowed, it seemed, with an inner light that took his breath away every time he saw her, something that had nothing to do with physical beauty...

"I didn't mean to do that," she said, after a time of this wonderful silence. The tears were beginning to prickle at the backs of her eyes again. "I made things harder, didn't I?"

"You?" He laughed, though he had never felt less like laughing in his entire life. "You didn't do anything except be who you are." _You betrayed your friend,_ screamed the voices in the back of his mind. _You hurt him more than anyone else ever could--making out with the girl he loves in a sordid shack, while he mourns her up in his dormitory!--and he doesn't even know._

_ I did what I had to...what I felt was right. God, how can things that feel so perfect be so...wrong? _

She looked up at him through a curtain of dark lashes, her eyes haunted. "I never wanted things to be complicated. I just wanted to be happy...that's all anyone wants, isn't it? And I thought I was happy. No, I didn't just think it--I really _was_ happy. I had friends...and I had Remus...and now I've messed everything up. Oh," and her voice was misery again, "why can't things just be _simple_?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, kissing the top of her head.

"Of course you don't. Sirius, I don't know what to do..." She pulled away from him, straightening her rumpled robes. "Maybe it's best if we just spent some time apart. Not just you--Remus, James, Peter, Lily." She sniffed, wiped her nose with her sleeve like a child and attempted a watery smile. "House pride, you know...maybe I'd better acquire some of it." She leaned over him, kissing him wetly on the mouth, and drew back. "Thank you...for everything."

And then she was gone.

*

"Prongs," muttered Sirius under his breath in no uncertain tones, "I have to talk to you."

James didn't ask questions; he knew his friend well enough that he was fairly sure he could understand what this was about. They trooped up into the empty dormitory, Sirius shut the door, and they stared at each other for a minute.

"You shagged her, didn't you," said James. It wasn't a question.

Sirius seemed to have a momentary speech impediment. "How--" he croaked, unable to get any farther. After a moment, he managed "We didn't _literally_, you know. Just kissed." After a very pregnant pause, he added, "A lot."

James nodded curtly. "I suspected you might."

Sirius sank onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't _mean_ to! Honestly I didn't. I'd _never_ hurt Moony that way, you know I wouldn't. It just sort of happened...she was so unhappy, I couldn't even look at her...I only wanted to comfort her, and I ended up..." He swallowed hard. "Now she doesn't want to see any of us, probably ever again." He looked up at his best friend. "What should I do?"

James laughed humorlessly. "You're asking _me_ for advice? After the Lily fiasco?"

Sirius waved it aside. "That'll get better if you stop thinking about it so much."

The other boy sighed. "You know, Padfoot, sometimes separation is best. Maybe Ani's right about this...things are too hard for everyone right now, and I don't just mean among _us._ Voldemort's attacks...they're affecting everyone, subtly or not-so-subtly. She might have gotten over her father, but--I don't know. Let her be for a while. She knows we're here if she needs us."

_But what if _I_ need _her_?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Part VII: Marches On

* * *

The candle flickered in its holder, dripping wax onto the scratched surface of the desk. Anika scribbled furiously on her parchment, stifling a yawn as she watched the spiders in their jar doing an impromptu ballet. _Nothing_, she thought tiredly, _nothing different._

Moony Blues, who was sleeping on top of a stack of papers, sneezed and waved her paws at invisible insects.

Anika hoped Dumbledore would owl her soon. The Ministry wouldn't let her use non-arachnid test subjects, but there was no way she could properly research the resistant gene without a control subject. 

"_Finite Incantatem_," she snapped at the spiders, and they promptly stopped dancing and collapsed, thin legs waving helplessly in the air.

She sucked thoughtfully on her quill, the ink-stained fingers of one hand drumming rhythmically against the desk as she read over the first draft of the second paragraph of her application.

_...However, it has been observed that the occasional wizard, less than one in ten thousand, can completely resist the effects of the curse. The purpose of my work research is to isolate the gene and/or characteristic that permits such resistance create a sort of "vaccine" for the Imperius curse from genetic extractions isolated from these few wizards. Could such an extract be created, the threat of the curse would be entirely annulled. Unfortunately, difficulty lies in locating these rare mutated genes; without a human test subject, it seems unlikely that the research can continue any further. Professor Albus Dumbledore . . . _

_ Now what? "Professor Albus Dumbledore apparently has one of these genes, may I please drag him to my underground lair, sample his blood, inject him with strange substances, and put one of the Unforgivable Curses on him?_" She groaned aloud, banging her head against the desk. _I'm nineteen years old! I should be outside right now, getting fit and tanned and beautiful. The streets should be strewn with the bodies of men shooting themselves for my sake. I should _not_ be cursing spiders in a basement._

There came a tapping at the door. "Come in," she called, laying the quill down.

"Professor Donelan?" The door creaked open, torchlight from the hallways flooding into her dark workroom. 

_And another thing: no one should be calling me "Professor," _she thought darkly. _People should be calling me 'babe' and 'sweetheart', or at _least_ 'Ani'_. "Yes, Rinako?"

"This just came for you . . . d'you want to read it now?"

"Yes, of course," Anika said quickly, drawing herself up and reaching for the letter that her co-worker held. "Thanks."

"No problem. Say, you want something to drink? Dr. Watson went out for butterbeer for everyone, and there's a giant crate upstairs. Come up for a bit? It'd be good for you to get some fresh air."

Anika stretched hugely, yawning and feeling the bones pop in her shoulders and spine. "Yeah, I think I will. Hang on, let me read this; I'll be up in a couple minutes."

"All right." Rinako retreated, closing the door behind her.

It wasn't as though her months at the Observatory had been unhappy ones. The rent was cheap, the lab was serviceable, and if it was a bit dark, at least there was an up-to-date air circulation spell. Still, she sometimes wished she'd taken up some line of work that involved tropical climes, adventure, excitement, and perhaps a daily jog.

_You didn't _have_ to take this job, you know,_ she reminded herself, watching one spider scuttle up the side of its jar and then fall back into the bottom of it. _You wanted to make a difference._

_ I didn't want to make a difference, I wanted to run away_. After she and Sirius had...stumbled over one another, after Remus had left, she'd nearly broken down. It was my fault, she'd told herself. It was my fault, for trying to make friends too fast, trying to be too much to too many people. And so she'd simply stopped talking to all of them, all her Gryffindor friends.

Well, she could say "simply" now, but it had never been simple. Advanced Arithmancy had been a nightmare--they tried to talk to her, she barely replied, she left feeling like the world's biggest ungrateful failure and cried herself to sleep.

At graduation, she hadn't even said goodbye to them. She'd known she might never see any of them ever again, and she'd just...left. 

She regretted it now. Often she longed to hear Sirius's vibrant laugh, to see again the way Remus's eyes seemed slanted in a certain light, to see Peter grin shyly and blush bright red the way he did when anyone complimented him--to watch James and Lily, heads bent close together, poring over some piece of unimportant piece of parchment and sneaking glances at one another when each thought the other wasn't looking.

Graduation hadn't been a happy day, in any event. Voldemort's constant presence, the guard of armed wizards who actually followed them to the reception to protect them from Death Eater terrorists, the conspicuous absence of at least three professors killed in battle against Voldemort...all had made the departure nothing but gloomy. And then, hardly a week later, Colleen Donelan put a bullet through her head in a dirty motel room near Leeds. She'd always had a flair for dramatics; why use a simple Avada Kedavra when one could harness the pure violent beauty of a gunshot?

Anika hadn't even gone to the funeral. She'd packed her things, caught a ferry to Shannon, and taken up work as a waitress on Achill Island, up County Mayo way. And then she'd felt the need to do something big, to help accomplish something in the world.

_So I took up spider-cursing_, she thought with dark humor.

Anika shook herself. The past was unimportant now; this letter could be the key to her future.

Anika slid a fingernail into the slot of the envelope and pulled out the paper inside.

  
  


_Anika M. Donelan_

_Achill Observatory_

_Co. Galway, Ireland_

  
  


_Dear Anika,_

_ I was greatly intrigued by your letter. The idea that a genetic abnormality might be the basis for resistance to the Imperius curse is a very interesting one, and though I would love to help you research it further, business ties me to the grey shores of England. However, should you have the time and the inclination to travel back to Hogwarts, I have a proposal for you._

_ Voldemort's presence has become an increasingly threatening one, and your work might be an important breakthrough in resisting him. Independently of the Ministry, an alliance has been formed which is dedicated to frustrating Voldemort's actions. Would you be willing to align yourself with us? It is a risky business; certainly, our league is not for the faint of heart. However, I do not doubt you would be up for the task. Here, you could perform your research with funding drawn directly from Hogwarts's expenses, and you would certainly have no lack of test subjects. _

_ Will you join us?_

_ Awaiting your answer as soon as possible._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Albus Dumbledore_

  
  


Anika stared at the letter, amazed. An alliance, forming at Hogwarts? And Dumbledore wanted _her_ to join? Certainly it appeared so . . . and funding drawn directly from Hogwarts's bulging vaults . . . no more waitressing at the local wizarding pub . . . and best of all, no more spiders in dark basements. 

She had to clamp down hard on herself to keep from leaping for joy as she scribbled a quick note on a spare piece of parchment, heart singing. 

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_ I'll be there as soon as possible. My lab is very small, and it won't take me much time to get packed. _

_ Thank you so much._

_ Anika Donelan_

  
  


*

Anika felt an amazing sense of deja vu as she stepped off the train at the Hogsmeade station; this time, however, there was no Hagrid to greet her, to herd her off into a horseless carriage with all her friends. All_ my friends_? she thought with dark humor. _I had seven, tops. And that was before..._

She walked briskly down the platform, Moony's cage slung over one shoulder and her trunk floating obediently behind her. Ahead of her, she could see the long line of broomsticks for rent--_probably horribly expensive_, she thought dismally, checking one price tag and flinching. There was only one model she could afford--a ratty old '69 Kestrel, shedding twigs like rain. With an inward shudder of apprehension, she gave her thirteen Sickles to the grinning little man behind the desk and pulled the broom off the rack, tethering her magically lightened trunk to the back of it and quickly pushing off. It gave a little rumbling moan of mechanical failure, like a dog unsuccessfully trying to mate with a goat, and nearly threw Anika off as it creaked into the air.

_This won't be fun_, thought Anika sadly, trying to straighten the broom out and failing miserably. She managed to touch down in one piece on the Hogwarts grounds, but the broom had a faulty braking charm which sent her pitching head over heels onto the lawn, her trunk skidding behind her. Cursing furiously, she scrambled to her feet, trying unsuccessfully to pick up the pieces of her lost dignity.

"Can I help you?" asked a calm, civil voice from behind her.

"No, thank you," said Anika as composedly as she could, fuming at the broom. "I'm f--"

She turned around, and nearly fainted.

"_Sirius?!_"

* Sirius had been sitting under a tree, staring at the burning pattern of sky through the leaves and thinking about nothing in particular, when he heard the broom. It was truly a horrible specimen: sounded like a '69 Kestrel to his experienced ear, and a damaged one at that. He crossed the grounds quickly; Dumbledore had told him to expect a visitor, a research scientist from Ireland here to join the Alliance, codename Ophelia. He'd been told to greet her.

As soon as he saw the broom's angle of descent, he broke into a jog. From the creaking noises, it sounded like the braking charm might be malfunctioning, and he wanted to be sure no one was hurt. Sure enough, when he was less than fifty feet away, the broom screeched to a halt in midair, and a black-robed figure hurtled over the front of it, slamming into the ground. She picked herself up quickly, muttering dire things, and turned her back to Sirius, apparently preoccupied.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Can I help you?"

Her shoulders stiffened--she obviously hadn't seen Sirius. "No, thank you, I'm f--" 

She turned around, smoothing down her robes, and suddenly froze. His mouth dropped open, his brain instantly recognizing those wide gray eyes, that glowingly white skin. "_Sirius?!_" she managed, her whole body freezing up.

Sirius choked. "A--Ani?!" She looked so much older, so much more mature--could a year, two years, have made that much difference? He could only stare, taking her in as she, too, took him in: eyes black, twisted with violet--face full and handsome as ever, still tall and wiry, and mouth open in disbelief--

"Dumbledore didn't--" they both gasped out at the same time, staring at each other as though they could devour one another with their eyes alone. And then they both stopped, and before Anika knew what she was doing she had thrown herself onto him and was hugging him tightly, laughing into his shoulder and pounding his back excitedly. "You look so _good_!"

"You do too!" he fairly screamed into her hair, pressing his hands against her back, inhaling her scent like a drowning man gasping for oxygen. "Ani, you--"

"I _know_ I didn't talk to you all through seventh year," she said seriously, pulling away from him, "and I'm sorry--but it's so amazing to see you, and I wish someone had _told_ me, and I hope you don't think I didn't want to be friends with you, I did, but things were so strange and confusing. Can't we be friends now?"

"I don't see why not," said Sirius, grinning madly. "Oh, Ani, I can't believe it's _you_!" They were still clutching one another, and then Sirius was twirling his friend around in the air, her robes flying out behind her as she threw her head back and laughed and laughed.

*

Dumbledore had given Anika her own little tower workroom in the West tower, so different from the musty basement she'd been renting at the Observatory. First of all, it was always filled with sunlight from the enormous windows that took up most of the walls; secondly, it was so...comfortable-looking. There was a soft, cushiony bed in one corner, long white curtains draping the windows, an iridescent silver carpet, inches deep, on the floor. The only sign that it was a workroom at all was the desk in the corner, which had already been stocked with plenty of parchment, ink and quills. There was even a little private bathroom, with a lovely china bath at least eight feet long taking up one wall.

She surveyed it all, hands on hips, with great pleasure. Moony had already found herself a snoozing spot on the windowseat and was making admirable use of it, soaking up the sunlight like a feline sponge. Anika had changed out of her traveling robes as well, into a comfortable gray tank top and her favorite ripped jeans. It was hot, even for July, and under normal circumstances she would have put on shorts, but the fact was that she hadn't shaved her legs in at least a week, and with Sirius around...well..._My vanity is just as hyperactive as it ever was_, she thought with some relief. _Maybe two years of spider-cursing hasn't permanently damaged me after all._

She pulled open her trunk, pulled out one of her records, and tapped it surreptitiously with her wand, her shoulders relaxing as the music flowed into the room, the sweet chime of the guitar, simple and pure, and the low, husky voice. She sang quietly along:

  
  


_Know that I love you_

_Know that I care_

_Know that I see you_

_Know I'm not there_

  
  


There was a knock on the door, and she turned, calling, "Come in!"

_This_ door, she noted with even greater delight, didn't even squeak on its hinges as it opened and Sirius poked his shaggy black head inside. "The rest of your things came. I've lugged them all the way up the stairs--the least you could do is help me get them inside."

"But I'm only a girl," said Anika helplessly, fluttering her eyelashes. "You know, the weaker sex, the Caesar-salad-eating gender. That's a job for a big strong man."

Sirius glared at her ineffectually. "Funny, I could have sworn that a second ago, when we went down to the dining hall, you were bolting down roast chicken like there was no tomorrow."

"I'm a _growing _girl," said Anika self-righteously. "And I happen to like chicken." She pointed imperiously at the door. "Go on, boy, fetch me my robes."

"Yes, _ma'am_," said Sirius teasingly, bowing his way out the door and re-entering within a moment with a huge trunk dragging behind him. He dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, dusting his hands off. "Damn! What's _in_ there? Peter?"

"Peter," said Anika in solemn tones, "sleeping in my trunk after an enormous breakfast of drugged kippers and sausage. I was going to kidnap him and perform horribly invasive medical experiments on him, but you've foiled me. Curses. Meddling kid." She hauled the trunk to the armoire in the corner and pulled it open, unpacking piles of clothing onto the bed.

Sirius sidled up behind her, peering over her shoulder. "Dumbledore told me to tell you that he's briefing you in an hour, so be sure to come down to his office."

"I will," promised Anika, folding up a set of silver dress robes over one arm. "Bye, then."

Sirius didn't leave. "Okay."

"Right." She placed the newly-folded robes on the closet shelf, ignoring the fact that he hadn't moved.

"So," said Sirius, a trace of desperation in his voice, "what have you been doing with yourself?"

"Researching," said Anika, reaching for another article of clothing.

"Researching _what_?" pressed Sirius, seating himself on her bed.

"Curses," said Anika ominously. "I'm getting very good at them."

"I see," said Sirius, edging out of her reach. "Well, I'll be leaving you alone, then."

"You do that," said Anika, staggering across the room under the weight of a stack of data transcriptions.

He eased out of the room and down the stairs, wondering what Remus would do when he found out who their new ally was.

*

Anika bounded down the marble staircases, positively whistling. She _loved_ this place, the smell of ink and strange potion ingredients, the delicious squeak of the clean stone under her feet, the sounds of Peeves bouncing about upstairs and throwing things. Oh, it was so wonderful, so thrilling and beautiful and lucky to be--

She slammed into someone, said "_Oof!_" and nearly twisted an ankle as she slipped down the stairs.

"Can't you watch it?" asked a voice irritably.

"Sorry," Anika said, embarrassed. She looked up, and found herself staring at a sallow, dark-haired boy her own age, who was glaring at her, obviously rather embarrassed himself. She almost choked. "_Snape_?"

"Donelan?" Snape stared at her, the embarrassed look wiping itself from his face and being replaced with his usual contemptuous sneer. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I," said Anika with dignity, "was invited. I can't _imagine_ what you're doing here."

"None of your business," snapped Snape, pushing past her.

"I don't care anyway!" she yelled after him. _Stupid git, trying to get me to feel inferior to him. How I hate him._

Her good mood spoiled, she trudged the rest of the way down the stairs towards Dumbledore's office.

The tall, blue-robed figure standing by the wall straightened at her approach, long white hair swinging out behind him as he smiled at her. "Hello, Anika! May I simply say, you look far too lovely for a research scientist. One would expect you to have as many wrinkles as I do, horn-rimmed glasses, and a perpetual smirk..."

"Too kind, Headmaster..." Anika smiled, bobbing a curtsey.

Dumbledore waved her address aside. "Pish! I won't have you calling me headmaster; you're not a first-year. You may call me Albus, and I shall call you Anika. Far simpler that way. Come along, then...we usually meet downstairs..."

_Not more basements! _Anika groaned inwardly, following the headmaster down the hall.

After a few metres, they reached a large tapestry hanging on the wall. Anika had seen it before: it was of an beautiful, aristocratic-looking young woman herding a flock of rather cross-looking ducks. Now, however, the woman was sitting on a rock at the edge of the tapestry, eating a box of what looked suspiciously like toffee. The ducks milled about her feet, quacking stupidly at random blades of grass.

"Eliza!" said Dumbledore smartly, tapping the weaving with one hand. 

The woman looked up, blinking owlishly at them. "Paffob?" 

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Sorry?"

"Asheb, paffob! Yucam gebbim wivouba paffob."

"Eliza," said Dumbledore severely, "you know you shouldn't be eating all that sticky stuff, at your age. It does horrible things to the teeth."

The girl stuck a pale finger into her mouth, rooting around to erase all trace of the toffee, then grinned stickily at both of them, tilted her delicate head, and said shrilly, "'Ow about a password, then, 'ey? Not that I don' trust yer or nuffink, but yerd better 'ave a password or I'll call Dumbledore, I will, ey? _Aaaaow! _D'yer mind not tuggin' on me bloody threads?!" This last was directed at Anika, who had been poking curiously at the tapestry, but quickly withdrew her hand.

"Eliza, dear, I _am_ Dumbledore," said Dumbledore with infinite patience. "And the password is 'Hinkypunk.'"

"Cor! _You're_ Dumbledore hisself? I don't bloomin' Adam and Eve it!" The girl peered closer at him. "Gorblimey, so you are; it's these blasted fibers, I cain't see nuffink. All right, in yer get, then. And mind you don't hit your head!" She cackled gleefully as the tapestry rolled itself up, revealing four lines sketched into the stone wall in the outline of a door. Dumbledore pushed it; a blue mist formed for a moment around his fingers, tracing the outline of his hand, and then it faded and the door swung open.

Anika's first impression was of a painting. Everything was just so perfectly arranged--the round wooden table in the centre of the room, the black-and-white tiles geometrically arranged around the floor, the tall pillars supporting the ceiling, the portraits of the four Founders that hung round the walls. It appeared to be empty; it was very dark, except for the flickering torches in brackets around the walls.

"Come now, Anika!" Dumbledore was already walking briskly down through the room, towards the table. Anika followed, apprehensive.

Dumbledore courteously pulled out a chair for her, bowing elaborately, and then took a seat across the table, laying his wand out on the table in front of him. Anika quickly mimicked him; her wand nearly rolled off the side of the table and she had to snatch at it, feeling stupid and incompetent. Dumbledore placed the tips of his fingers together, elbows resting comfortably on the desk.

"Anika, welcome to the Circle."

Something tingled down Anika's spine at the words.

"We are an alliance pledged to the defeat of Voldemort, pledged to keep him from accomplishing his hideous goal. We know things that no one else knows about his plans, about his movements, his servants, his ultimate intents. And that is why we _must stop him_."

Dumbledore rose to his feet, pointed his wand at the center of the table, and muttered something. There was a brief flash of light, and then something sprang into view, hovering in midair and revolving slowly. It was a flickering image of two flat stones--an illusion, Anika reminded herself, albeit a very skillful one. He began to pace slowly back and forth, his robes swirling about his feet.

"These are called the Scyldinga Runes, Anika. Have you heard of them?"

She nodded, vaguely remembering something Professor Kenaz had mentioned during Ancient Runes. "Prophecies, weren't they? I thought they were destroyed..."

"They were," said Dumbledore grimly. "The Circle destroyed them. Our illusions are the only remaining records. Voldemort would do anything to get his hands on these."

"Why?" asked Anika, bewildered.

"Because they will tell him how to gain infinite power--not only over this world, but over every world that exists." In the light that flickered from the walls, Dumbledore looked very old, and very tired. Anika had to look away, almost feeling as though she were intruding on something private. "Voldemort's true nature is far from human. His mother was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, as you may have guessed. His immense power as a young boy made him an excellent vessel for powers far older than mankind...a subject I imagine you know much about, with your mother."

"I only know--Irish--prehistory, sir."

"Well, Ireland is really where it all began, isn't it? You know, then, that the balance of the worlds is governed by four powers--fire, air, earth and water?"

Anika nodded, relieved to finally feel that she knew what she was doing. "Yessir" Her mother had told her long ago of the four oldest de Danaan cities--Gorias, of fire, in the east; Finias, of air, in the south; Murias, of water, in the west; and Falias, of earth, in the north.

"So, then. Voldemort--once known as Tom Riddle--was a very ambitious, and very talented, man. He hated muggles with a passion--his father, a muggle, was perhaps a less-than-admirable specimen of humanity--and so he did something very foolish: he performed an ancient ritual at the old site of Gorias, opening his body to one of the four cardinal spirits. Fire, in fact. Fickle, but very, very powerful. Precisely what Riddle wanted."

Anika knew enough about the elementals to feel her skin turn to ice at the story. So that was why Voldemort was so powerful--he was only human in body, only human in the faintest remnants of his soul, if indeed he had any soul left. 

"Once he did this, he had to take on not only his own ambitions, but those of the Elemental as well. And as all fire strives for things to feed on, so too does Voldemort. If he could, he would open every worldgate that exists on Earth, letting in all the chaos and horror of the other dimensions, controlling them all. 

"But he cannot. There are three other Elemental vessels, scattered over the world, and while they live Voldemort cannot possibly open these gates--the spell to open them requires the sacrificial blood of the other Vessels, and the key to finding those vessels lies in these runes--prophecies, giving their identities, and the ways to find and destroy them. Do you remember--I suppose you would have been thirteen or fourteen--there was a case of a suicide cult who murdered twenty Irish children?"

Anika nodded. She remembered it with a horrible chill; one of the young girls found vivisected on the stones at Dun Dubh had been an old babysitting client.

"That cult was called the Death Eaters, and they were followers of Voldemort before his great rise. Each of those children had great potential in one of the four elements, and Voldemort figured that slaying enough of them would equal slaying one real elemental. He only managed to open one gate, though, and the power it took killed all the cultists in an instant." Anika shuddered, but Dumbledore continued. "You surely understand now. That is why we must decipher the symbols before Voldemort does, so that we can awaken that power in the Vessels before they are sacrificed on the stones at Falias, opening the world to the ultimate destruction..." There was a moment of very loud silence. Anika's head spun; it was too much. Spiders were simpler.

"So--the Circle's just trying to delay Voldemort long enough so that we can translate these runes? Not defeat him--not until we've got the Vessels--just delay him?" _Please let me be right. Please don't let him think I'm an absolute idiot, please..._

Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "There, you see? I give you fifteen minutes' worth of 'briefing', and you spit it back at me in two sentences. You'll fit in perfectly here."

"Sir--" Anika smoothed back her hair. Something still niggled the back of her mind. "Do we know _any_ of the other vessels?"

"We do know one," said Dumbledore gravely, stroking his beard. "Voldemort, unfortunately, knows about him too."

"Who--who is it?"

"Why," said Dumbledore, and the illusion floating over the table vanished, replacing itself with a floating silver tea-tray and a plate of biscuits, "why, it's me."

Anika almost fell out of her chair.

The headmaster smiled. "Cup of tea?"

*

"I should have _guessed_ it!" said Anika furiously. Sirius watched her, amused. "I mean, it was so absolutely _obvious_, it was staring me right in the face, and I had to go asking stupid questions. Dumbledore probably thinks I'm an absolute idiot."

"Of course he doesn't, Ani, none of us guessed it first try..."

"And that's another thing! Who is 'us?' I only know you and Dumbledore...don't you ever have big evil-fighting meetings, so you can get to know all your fellow world-savers?"

Sirius shrugged. "Did he give you a parchment?"

"Yeah...yeah, he did, but it was blank. He said to ask you about it."

"It's codenames. The Circle members only know one another by codenames. On the rare occasions that we meet face to face, we wear masks. It makes it easier that way...we can't possibly betray each other..."

"I could betray you," said Anika, with some grim, twisted satisfaction.

"I don't think you would," said Sirius, half-smiling. "Let me see that parchment. You'll get a list of every codename...hang on, I'll show you something cool..."

Anika produced it from her sleeve. "Now what?"

"Tap it," said Sirius, leaning back in his chair, "and say, _'Sodalitas!'_"

"Sodalitas!" cried Anika, tapping the parchment with her wand. It ran black for a moment, and then the black formed spidery lines and sketched across the paper.

  
  


_Coriolanus_

_Ophelia_

_Mercutio_

_Iago_

_Benvolio_

_Romeo_

_Juliet_

_Hecate_

_Prospero_

  
  


"Who are those?" asked Anika, surprised and admiring. 

"It's every Circle member that you know by real name as well as codename," said Sirius, rather smugly. "Personalized. Isn't that impressive? James and I designed it."

"James?" asked Anika, surprised. "He's--"

"He's here too," confirmed Sirius, frowning slightly. "I guess you must know nine of the members by name...Nominatim!"

More spidery lines danced over the parchment:

  
  


_Coriolanus--Severus Snape_

_Ophelia--Anika Donelan_

_Mercutio--Sirius Black_

_Iago--Peter Pettigrew_

_Benvolio--Remus Lupin_

_Romeo--James Potter_

_Juliet--Lily Whitby_

_Hecate--Minerva McGonagall_

_Prospero--Dumbledore_

  
  


"Better memorize them quickly," advised Sirius, "because the parchment self-destructs in forty seconds."

"R-Remus is here?" stammered Anika through abruptly frozen lips.****_And Snape, _she thought frantically, _Snape..._

"Memorize!" scolded Sirius.

Anika had already memorized; she was now trying to swim through the haze that had enveloped her mind. She hadn't spoken to Remus in two--three?--years, and now he was here...now she'd be working with him...

"Lovely codenames, aren't they?" said Sirius with some amusement. "I get stabbed, you go mad and drown, Peter backstabs his superior, James poisons himself...at least Snape gets chased out of Rome by the unwashed masses and later gets stabbed by his closest ally. That ought to be fun." He peered closer at the sheet. "It's fine for Dumbledore; he gets to be from a _comedy_."

Without any warning, the parchment burst into cold blue flames and, in less than a second, was nothing but a pile of glowing ash.

"I don't want to see Remus," said Anika gloomily, staring at it. "I don't know what he's going to say to me."

"He probably won't say anything," said Sirius, wondering how best to break it to her, "because he..er....he might not..."

"Tell me he's got a girlfriend," said Anika quickly, rounding on him.

"He's got a girlfriend," said Sirius, relieved. "Did I say it right?"

"Oh," said Anika, half-thrilled and half despondent. "Should--should I go visit him?"

"I don't know," said Sirius frankly. 

"I think I should." She wiped her forehead with one sleeve, staring out the window at the peaceful summer grounds, thick with cricket-song and the smell of fresh-cut grass. "Where could I find him?"

"He's probably down the east wing--he's got his own office here, like you."

"Where do you live?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've an apartment up Hogsmeade way, like Lily and James."

"Are they rooming together then?" asked Anika with keen interest.

"Yup. They'll be engaged any moment now, you mark my words. Remus, Peter and I've got a bet on--I say it'll happen in August, Peter says not till November and Remus says December."

"My money for October. I'm glad they're together." Pause. "Well." She got up, finger-combing her thick black hair. "I--I should go."

"Hey." He stopped her, grabbing her elbow and forcing her to turn around. "Where are you having dinner tonight?"

"I don't know--thought I'd run down to the kitchen and pick up some salad makings." She forced herself to appear absolutely unconcerned.

"Well, if you want to you could go with Lil and James and me down to the Newt's Eye. We're meeting around seven, if you're interested..."

"I'll see if I've got time," said Anika, trying to slow down her heart.

"All right. See you round, then."

"R-right."

_See Remus_, she reminded herself, watching Sirius jog out the door and down the stairs. _I think it's about time you got some closure in at least one of these weird-ass "relationships."_

*

Remus tore off his reading glasses and tossed them aside with a quiet oath. The tiny, angular characters swam before his eyes, blurring into thousands of sneering grassblades that crisscrossed into self-satisfied smirks. 

_Runes don't smirk, _he thought irritably. _Get a hold of yourself._

He smeared at his eyes with one thin hand, exhaling wearily. It was only maybe four or five o'clock--he almost imagined he could hear birds, chirping cheerily outside the walls. _Of course you can't hear birds_, he told himself firmly. _There are three feet of stone between you and anything that chirps._

He regarded his parchment of notes with nothing short of disgust. Trying to translate two entire tablets of incomprehensible runes when your only clue to what they mean is four lines in ancient Greek is far from easy or rewarding.

"_Gah_," said Remus, and he meant it.

A shadow fell across the glass pane at the door of his office. Someone knocked.

"'Min,"he muttered, pushing the rune sheets aside.

"Remus?" came a low, familiar voice, trembling.

He looked up, and what should have been a tender reunion moment was somewhat ruined by the fact that he hadn't got his glasses on. A tall, black-haired blur wobbled in front of him. "It's been a long time..." it said, making vague, nebulous motions with one appendage.

"Er," he said, scrabbling for his glasses. "Er--do I--_oh._"

"Oh, indeed," said Anika, trying to smile at him. "Hello, Benvolio."

"_Ophelia_?" he whispered, shocked. Anika, Anika Donelan, Anika Donelan that had haunted his memories and his dreams for three years...she was the mysterious Ophelia, the researcher Dumbledore had told them about?

"I suppose so," she said awkwardly, pulling at one sleeve with her hand. "Yes. Yes, that's me."

She didn't look the way he remembered. At night, he sometimes dreamed that he was at her funeral, and everyone circled round the coffin, burning him with their eyes..._you killed her_..._you did this_...

In the dreams, she was so perfect. In his memories, her hair was smooth and silky, her lips full and smooth, her skin flawlessly white, her eyes as deep and swirling as a midsummer storm. Looking at her now, he realized with clinical detachment that her hair actually fuzzed and snapped around her face in the humidity, that she was covered in freckles, that her mouth was rather too wide for beauty and her face too pointed for perfect femininity. It was rather a shock. She was also sweating slightly, something that she had never done in his dreams. 

Well, perhaps she had in _some _of them.

"I--I've missed you." Remus wanted to say something meaningful, something important and great, but the words refused to come.

"Yeah," she whispered, unable to look at him. "Yeah, I've missed you too."

They watched each other, she twisting her robe anxiously between long thin hands, his throat clogged by the awkward thickness-of-air that occurs between ex-lovers in close proximity.

"You didn't used to wear glasses," she said softly.

"I haven't had a chance to get my eyes fixed," he replied, feeling like an bumbling teenager, feeling like he was dreaming. "You know, ocular magic..bit sketchy...you can't be too careful...I...er...yes."

"Yes," she echoed, staring at the floor. "Well."

"Well."

There was silence for some time.

"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly, looking up.

"I don't know." He was so taken aback by the question that he told the truth without thinking. 

"I was hoping you were happy," she said softly. "I guess it's a bit much to ask."

"I've been working. It keeps me busy."

"It shouldn't have to," said Anika sadly, taking in the scattered papers, the ink-stained desk, so much like her own back at the observatory. "But I just wanted to say hello. I...I'll go." She turned to the door, her small frame silhouetted against the torchlight in the corridor, and then turned back. "Hey--if you want to talk--I've got an office upstairs. I hear you've got a girlfriend..." The ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"You couldn't expect me to beat myself up over you forever, could you?" he retorted, a tiny smile tinging his own lips. "Well, actually, I suppose you could."

"Silly way to behave," said Anika firmly. "I'm sure she's lovely."

He shrugged. 

Her smile grew, just the slightest bit. "Good to see you, Moony."

"Yeah." And he realized what was different about her--those eyes didn't make his breath catch anymore, the grace of her movements didn't clog his throat the way it had at sixteen. Maybe they could be...friends.

Friends.

She closed the door softly behind her, and he looked back down at his papers, unable to stop smiling to himself. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Part VIII: The River

* * *

Anika coughed and waved her hand in front of her face, sending a cloud of the all-pervading cigarette smoke blossoming into the room. The Newt's Eye was a hangout for wizards from all walks of life; at the bar, two old men were comparing the sizes of their wands and roaring drunkenly at one another as, right next to them, a young woman with too much eye makeup, in a black, thin-strapped top and about fifty pounds of silver chain around her neck and hips was hungrily kissing a blissful-looking young man with blue hair and prominent fangs. Next to the amorous couple, a middle aged woman squalled irritably at her two toddlers, who were evidently trying to strangle one another with the paper napkin-holders--a difficult feat, certainly, but if anyone could accomplish it, these children could.

She cast a glance around the bar, searching for any sign of the people she'd come to meet. Every booth was full; she felt an idiot, walking by and peering at the diners, but there was no real alternative. 

A familiar, rich peal of laughter cut through the thick smoke. Anika looked up, relieved, and made her way through the crush of people to a booth on the far side, where she could see the nod of a shaggy black head, the sheen of a warm broad back and leather jacket.

"Sirius," she called, feeling decidedly awkward, unable to see who else was in the booth with him; it was a big table, there must have been four or five others...He twisted about in his seat, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Bizarrely, she found herself noticing the way his black shirt fell under his breath, in waves like clouds under wind. 

"Ani!" he cried cheerfully, beckoning to her. "Come on, don't be shy..."

She ventured forward into the circle of yellow light cast by the lamp over the booth, shyly draping a fat tendril of hair behind one ear. "Er, hello."

And then all of a sudden someone--she couldn't see who--was hugging her so tightly that her chest felt in danger of implosion and someone else was yelling gleefully over her head. The drink of the person embracing her bumped against her back; evidently the person hadn't even bothered to put it down, and now it was spilling a bit against her new robes. 

"_Okay_," said Anika slightly more sharply. "Owch." And then she felt the brush of hair across her face, and caught a sparkle of copper out the corner of one eye--"Lily?!"

"Ani!" cried Lily breathlessly, yanking her old friend to arm's length and drinking her in with those tilted, thick-lashed emerald eyes. "Ani, you're Ophelia?!"

"Er," said Anika, remembering Remus's reaction--come to think of it, wasn't that Remus? sitting in the corner of the booth with a platinum-haired girl whose name Ani didn't know--"er, well, yes."

"_Oh,_" said Lily expressively, and then, "oh, Ani, I've missed you _so much_--" and she was being hugged again, and over Lily's shoulder Anika could see James standing, a silly little half-smile on his face. She raised her eyebrows sardonically at him in greeting, and was pleased to see him do the same in return.

"You look different," said Lily at length, pulling away for the second time. "Grown into your bones, I see. Lovely."

"You look the same, except you've grown out your hair--looks really nice long." admitted Anika honestly. "I think the pretty ones don't change."

"Bull," said Lily playfully, "I already told you that you look different."

Someone stood, at the end of the table. Anika poked her head around Lily's and saw Remus, waving hesitantly at her. She waved back, feeling immensely stupid. "You don't have to wave, you know, we're only five feet away from each other--"

"I don't feel like yelling," Remus called back. "Too much drunken shouting."

"I like the drunken shouting," said Sirius mildly. "It makes me feel at home."

"That's not a good sign," said Anika, rather worriedly.

"I know," and Sirius shrugged and shook his head slightly, flicking his hair out of his dark, slanted eyes.

The platinum-haired girl stood up, looking at Anika with gentle, inquisitive brown eyes, and shot a sideways glance at Remus.

"Oh, right," said Remus hurriedly. "Ani, this is Jill Prewett...Jill, this is Anika Donelan. We went to school together."

"Hallo," said Jill, smiling and showing a set of perfectly even, straight, white teeth.

"Nice teeth," said Anika without thinking. Lily snickered.

"I'm sorry?" Jill leaned politely across the table, cupping one ear.

"Nice to meet you!" Anika said quickly, sweating slightly and trying to smile.

"You'll be the newest member, then?" asked Jill, folding her short-fingered, tanned little hands and sitting back down.

"Yes," said Anika for what felt like the twelfth time. "Yes, I'm a researcher. Specializing in curses."

"Oh!" Jill's smile became slightly less canned and more friendly. "So we're in the same department, then. I'm a translator, with Remus," and she cast an adoring glance at Remus.

"Aha," said Anika, rapidly running out of things to say. "Er."

Remus settled an arm around Jill's shoulders and smooshed a kiss against her left ear. Jill leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Are they--very close?" whispered Anika to Sirius, scooting into a seat beside him.

Sirius shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No. But she keeps Remus from being too lonely, and he keeps her from being single. It's more a convenience than anything else, and I don't think it'll last."

"She seems nice enough," Anika whispered back.

"Well, that's because she _is_ nice enough--_enough_ being the key word. No better than _enough_." Sirius sounded almost grumpy. "What good is someone who's only enough?" 

"Better than someone who isn't even enough."

Sirius shrugged moodily. "I don't know. I don't like her much, is all. She just likes to be able to say she's dating Remus because she doesn't like to be dating no one at all."

James cleared his throat loudly, thumping the table with his mug of butterbeer. Sirius fell silent. "Um. Lily and I have an announcement to make. We would have liked to make it with Peter around, but he's...er...gone missing somewhere, so. Er. We're...we're going to get married. In October. We've been planning it since January, and we were trying to keep it a secret, but...we...we couldn't, really. So there you are," he added with some asperity.

Sirius burst out into loud, whooping cheers and whipped his wand out of his sleeve, setting off an eruption of red-and-gold fireworks that ricocheted around the bar, knocking several of the tipsier patrons off their stools. Remus's face lit up and he let out a hoot of joy, applauding furiously; Jill looked politely happy and clapped, and Anika simply screamed and jumped up to hug both of them all over again. 

"Oy, there!" yelled the bartender. "That's enough, you!"

"They're getting married!" shouted Sirius, losing his head completely. "They're _finally_ getting married!"

"Good," said the bartender blankly.

"_Good?! _It's a fucking _miracle _is what it is, and I'll thank you not to ruin the moment!"

"There, now, Sirius," muttered Anika, stifling his yelps with one hand. "It's wonderful, but you _could_ stop the fireworks."

"Never!" cried Sirius dramatically, and the falling sparks illuminated his handsome face from the top and winked over his eyes and cheeks. 

Anika grinned, at Lily, at James, at Sirius, Remus, even Jill, and suddenly felt more accepted, more like she _belonged_ than she had in what felt like forever

  
  


They emerged into the sultry July night, spilling the light from inside the bar out onto the moon-spangled grass, and gathered in a circle just outside the Newt's Eye. 

"It was wonderful to see you," Anika said shyly, fiddling with her cloak.

"Great to see you too, Ani," said Lily warmly, grasping one of Anika's hands in both of her own. Her skin was so smooth, thought Anika in disbelief; it was almost inhuman. "I'm so glad we'll be working together."

"Goodnight, Ani!" called James, who was already pulling his broomstick out of its rack in front of the door. He climbed onto it; Lily climbed on behind him, and a moment later they kicked off into the air, both waving furiously until they were out of sight. Anika waved back, eyes bright with starlight.

"Ani, how're you getting home?" asked Sirius, who was leaning casually against a tree, listening to the crickets.

"Thought I'd just walk..." She shrugged. It was something of a sting that she couldn't afford a broomstick, but she tried to conceal it: "I like walking. It's good exercise."

"Mind if I go with you part of the way?" he asked, dark eyes shadowed and enigmatic under the moon. 

"Course not." She started down the path, Sirius close behind her. "If you really want to bother."

"I was going this way anyway." There was a brief flare of light from his direction; she cast a glance over at him and then--"Sirius! You're going to get cancer!"

"Tell me something I don't know," said Sirius carelessly and somewhat muffledly, holding the cigarette lightly between his lips and inhaling deeply. He raised a pale hand, pulling the cigarette away, and blew out a long puff of smoke. "At least it cheers me up. And _don't_ you dare start preaching at me."

"You used to smell good," said Anika grumpily. "Now you smell like an ashtray. Congratulations. Feel _better_?"

He glared at her, taking a rebellious drag on the cigarette. "Like I don't get that enough from Moony."

Before he could react, she had snatched it from his hands and ground it under one boot heel, scowling. "Well, maybe he's _right_. He's your friend, he cares about your health, and as a mediwizard I just can't--"

He glowered at her in the moonlight. "You're not even a real mediwizard! You just call yourself 'Professor' so people will take you seriously!"

"That's not true!"

"You just told me it was an hour ago!"

"Well, I--I---I was just trying to be funny--" She went very red, and scowled at him furiously.

"Here I've only seen you for a day, and already you're interfering with one of the few things that actually bring me pleasure in life!"

"Well, maybe it's about time you found someone _human_ to make you happy!" She was almost wishing that it wasn't so dark; she couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell if he was angry or surprised, and at the same time was incredibly glad he couldn't see her going red. _What a stupid thing to say!_

He gaped at her.

"Are you leaving soon?" she asked rudely. "Off somewhere where you can smoke in peace?"

"Oh, sod off."

"Sorry, " she said suddenly, looking at the dirt road. The wind ruffled her hair. "I should butt out."

"Heh, butt," said Sirius tonelessly. "Cigarette...butt." Pause. "I appreciate the thought, though. Really. It's nice that you don't want me to die." 

They had come to the end of the road; one branch led to Hogwarts, and the other to Sirius's apartment. His motorcycle leaned against the stile, reflecting the moonlight in its perfectly polished tire wells and chrome. He patted it gently. "I guess we split here."

"Yeah." She regarded the motorcycle admiringly. "Yours?"

"Mm-hm." He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. "Just got her last year. Her name's Rae."

"Ex-girlfriend?" she asked acidly, hands on hips.

Sirius made a sweeping gesture with his hands. "My muse. My angel. My inspiration."

"'Rae' is a hooker name," said Anika bluntly. "Such a hooker name I have not heard since I was five years old and watching 'Bambi.'"

"Hookers can't be muses?" asked Sirius with great dignity. "The poet-hooker relationship is a long-established and respected one. Haven't you ever read any Cummings?"

"Maybe if her name was 'Persephone' or 'Xanthippe' or 'Juliet,' but come on..._Rae?_"

"Like I'm going to name my motorcycle 'Xanthippe,'" said Sirius in disgust. "G'wan home."

"See you, Sirius."

"Pity you will," said Sirius, poking his tongue out at her and straddling the motorcycle comfortably. She waved, and set off down the path towards Hogwarts as he blasted into the skies.

  
  


Anika held the mouse delicately, feeling the terrified beating of its tiny heart against her fingers as she raised the syringe to it. "Hush," she whispered, feeling strangely sympathetic as it kicked and squirmed futilely, "this isn't going to hurt. _Hush_."

She pushed the plunger. The mouse shuddered and went stiff; electric blue liquid--extracts of Dumbledore's blood, plus a few extra ingredients--crept into its veins, slowing the heartbeat, dulling the shining black eyes. She counted the beats against her thumb, and recorded them on the parchment next to her. Then she placed the mouse on the desk, where it crouched low, about to flee, and pointed her wand. "_Imperio!_" 

The creature froze, transfixed.

_Walk forward,_ she thought. _Walk forward._

Nothing happened. The mouse did not move. Its eyes shifted, just slightly flickering. For a moment, a paw started forward--and then was snatched back.

Anika's heart leapt. Could it have worked? She leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat--_Walk! Walk forward!_

The mouse was still--and then, all of a sudden, there was a tiny crack and it collapsed on the desk, the heartbeat stopped.

"Damn!" said Anika aloud. She seized the rodent in one hand, prodded at it--it was quite dead. The effort to fight the Curse must have taken more strength than the tiny animal possessed--she'd given it too much of the serum, perhaps--and she felt an odd sort of guilt for its death.

She placed her hands on its soft belly, the velvet fur of the stomach caressing her fingers.

The soft, sweet note in the back of her mind...the siren call, as pure and seductive as the sea...

_Flash._

Color after color after color, pictures blazing through her mind-- Grey-green-black-white-black-white, like lightning bolts, as though she was watching the life of the mouse through the windows of a fast-moving train. And then--

There was no color. All was in shades of misty, eye-clouding grey. The wind nipped at her hair, tossing it about her face, silent as the moon. In front of her, slow with frozen sleet, the river crawled sluggishly toward the west. She reached her hand into it, feeling the unbelievable cold over her fingertips, creeping up her wrists, spangling her arms, all the way to her shoulder--

Anika ripped her hand out of the water. The mouse lay in her palm, blue and nerveless, but it was beginning to melt into gory icicles, to slough through her fingers like sand...

_Flash_.

For a moment, the place between her fingertips and the mouse's fur glowed blue.

The mouse quivered under her fingers. The heartbeat revived.

Anika gasped and fell back, as the creature, eyes sparkling again, dodged under her desk and scampered through a crack in the wall.

The call sounded in the back of her head again, the low, lilting melody...

_Ani, sweetheart...Ani...._

_ Mother?! But she's...she's...._

She looked down at her hands....they were frosted over, the fingertips white and sparkling with crystal icicles. And her eyelashes...hard and cold against her skin, as though they too were covered in ice....

Anika's knees buckled under her, too weak to hold her up any longer. The carpet prickled against her eyelids, the sharp pain in her head and chest nearly obliterating her vision.

Moony looked up from her spot on the windowsill, her usually vacant eyes glowing, alert and chillingly green.

_Dumbledore..._thought Anika dully. _Dumbledore...I've got to tell...I've got to...._

And then darkness.

  
  


Voldemort's head snapped up, his ruby eyes flashing. He had felt--just for the shortest moment--someone had reached the Greylands. Someone had disturbed the river; he had felt their fingers paddling as if in his own flesh, unnaturally warm and soft. He hissed through his teeth, biting down on his own tongue. Who could have touched Charon's moat without crossing it upon the instant?

The runes could tell him, he knew. And he was so close to them...so close to reaching Benvolio, the scholar who would know all the translations. Wormtail had already told him of Benvolio, told him where his office was, told him everything. Perhaps he would even make a raid tonight...but Benvolio had been awfully elusive in the past, and gods knew he was troublesome. Even if the Death Eaters could get past the wards--and the information Wormtail had given him would provide well enough for that--who knew how well the scholar could defend himself? 

Even so he was less trouble than the other three--Romeo, Juliet and Mercutio. Those three...how many loyal Death Eaters had those three corrupted, seduced, killed? How many Mudbloods had they sheltered? How many times had they held the runes just out of reach, setting traps, making plans...when Wormtail, or Snape, learned their true identities...they would be the first to die. 

But there would be a little time before they died.

A little time.

So much can happen in a little time, thought Voldemort, and he felt the cold breath of the Greylands again. He would send them there, and no mysterious meddling touch would pull them from the currents of the river when he was finished.

The river, he thought, there was a clue there. Peter had told him of a new recruit, a researcher...not a threat, he had thought. Ophelia. The small part of the Dark Lord that was still Tom Riddle remembered a play..._Hamlet_, it had been, and had Ophelia not drowned in a river near the end? Could it be merely coincidence? With Dumbledore, very little was coincidence.

He tapped his wand against his hand, thoughtfully, and stared with unseeing red eyes at the pristine marble wall of his chambers. Ophelia he would have to destroy...she was probably a simple necromancer, perhaps with a slight knowledge of the tricky currents of Charon's Ford, but nothing too unusual. Nonetheless...she could perhaps become an irritation. 

Again he felt the burning touch against his skin, the touch of mortal flesh against the River, and shuddered. There would have to be extra safeguards put up, the gates better guarded. Simple necromancy or not...he would have to be careful until he had the Circle in his hands.

"Evan!"

A single shadow detached itself from its fellows in the corner of the room, gliding into the light. "My Lord."

"Do we have the means to raid Hogwarts tonight?"

"I had thought we would wait until Dumbledore..."

"Not attack, raid. Can those idiots in Espionage get through the wards yet?"

"Not to the inner sanctum, my Lord...perhaps only to the offices...would that be enough?"

"Yes...yes. Wormtail has given me enough information to reach one of their translators--known only as Benvolio. I want him tonight...we've delayed directly attacking a Circle wizard for long enough. Can you manage it?"

Rosier bowed smoothly. "It should not be inordinately taxing, Lord. Especially with Wormtail's help."

"He will help you," whispered Voldemort, smiling slightly. "He will certainly help you."

"It shall be done," said Rosier softly.

"Oh, and Rosier? Make sure someone dies before you leave. I want to leave them a little...calling card." _And maybe catch myself a necromancer, _he thought with faint satisfaction. "Make sure you get out right away after you kill them, though...the Old One can sense the death of any of his Circle." He felt the tiniest tingle of fear at the thought of Dumbledore, the only one who could ever match him, the only other...

"Yes, Lord." And then there was a small pop of imploding air and Rosier was gone.

  
  


Anika opened her eyes very suddenly, and the world blurred for a moment and then came back into focus. Moony was sitting on her head, meowing concernedly into her left ear. 

"Gerrrof," mumbled Anika, trying to remember what had happened. There had been a mouse...she'd been injecting it with Serum A...something had happened. It had died, she recalled blearily. Why did she want to tell Dumbledore that? It wasn't important. It was only a mouse.

She shook herself and pushed up onto her elbows, dumping Moony unceremoniously onto the floor. Her head throbbed mercilessly, red-and-green lights flashing achingly just behind her eye sockets. 

With one cold, shaking hand, she wiped a strand of wet hair out of her eyes, still shivering uncontrollably, as though she'd been dumped into the Hogwarts lake in February. What the hell had happened? She swallowed hard; her throat was sore, thick, the lymph nodes swollen and aching. A cough sent a wave of pain ripping through her lungs and throat, and she climbed blearily to her feet, the room swaying in dizzying swoops around her.

Supporting herself on the bedpost, she peered into the mirror that hung above her bed. The edges of it were fogged, like windows in December...but it was clearing...

The face that stared at Anika through the glass was hardly a face at all. A bare skull, nearly, though flesh dangled in grotesque strips from its contours, and eyes that were still greenish-grey stared, horror-struck, out of the dark sockets. 

Anika screamed.

Lily had been heading down the Charms corridor, intending to surprise James with a lunch she'd packed, when she heard the scream. It was very faint, but certainly audible--coming from the West tower, it sounded like. What was in the West tower?

_Ani's room,_ she realized, a thrill of panic coursing through her veins. 

She dropped the sandwiches on the floor, her somewhat domestically-inclined mind giving a little moan of dismay as she did so, and raced down the corridor towards the staircase. _Damn these Apparation wards,_ she thought furiously, taking the steps two at a time. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._

The door of Anika's room came into view. Lily smashed her palm against it, feeling the odd tingle against her hand as the ward-magic scanned it, making sure she was an authorized Circle member..._Hurry, hurry,_ she thought desperately. The sound of shattering glass echoed from inside the room--let me in let me in _let me in goddamnit--_

The door sprang open and Lily crashed inside, her wand flipped into her hand in a textbook defensive position. 

She cast a quick glance around. At first sight, the room appeared to be empty, undisturbed--but Lily took in the weirdly frosted windowpanes, the pools of water on the otherwise spotless carpet. And then her glance moved upwards, to the wall. The large, silver mirror that hung just above the bed had been smashed, the tiny raindrops of glass sprinkling over the blue sheets of the bed.

"Oh _smelt it,_" the mirror was mumbling in irritable, grandmotherly tones, "what a mess. Seven years bad luck at _minimum_, I should say, I mean I was _just polished_--"

"Shut up," snapped Lily, scanning the apartment. The mirror shut up. There--behind the bed--

Wand held cautiously out before her, she edged slightly forward. There was definitely an odd, lumpy shape behind the mattress...

"Wingardium leviosa," muttered Lily, pointing her wand at the shape. The sheets ruffled, as if under a brisk wind, and then the shape rose into the air. It was unmistakably Anika, her usual marble-angel paleness reduced to an unhealthy pallor, and one hand bleeding profusely, as though it had been smashed through glass.

Lily dropped the body onto the bed and rushed over to it, ripping the tangled robes from her friend's throat to facilitate breathing, and snatched Anika's wrist, checking for a pulse. There was one--very faint, but there--

And then the door burst open for a second time, and this time Sirius and James came exploding in, accompanied by a cloud of splinters that told her they'd tried to break in without waiting for ID confirmation.

"We heard screaming," panted James. "Took us forever to get past Peeves--"

"What happened?" snapped Sirius, catching sight of Lily. "Where's Ani?" His face bore a strange, alien mixture of utter fear and boiling rage, and it made Lily quail slightly inside. 

"She's here." Lily stepped back, revealing Anika's prone form on the bed.

"She's not--she's not--" Sirius's voice was shaking slightly as he wobbled forward, towards the two of them.

"She's alive, but she's horribly cold and I don't know why, and it looks like she smashed that mirror over her bed for some reason. We should get her down to the hospital wing straight away."

"What about _me?_" whined the mirror.

"Shut up," said James and Sirius simultaneously.

"Yeah," added Lily, feeling inadequate.

Remus knew nothing about Anika's condition. He had cloistered himself in his office with over twenty sheets of possible translations, an illusion generator, and Jill Prewett, and was now having a rather romantic dinner--or as romantic as it could be, when every ten seconds he would have to lean over and scribble some new finding on his parchments. 

"Stop it," said Jill earnestly, taking a bite of turkey. "Just for ten minutes, can't you stop it?"

"No," said Remus hungrily. "D'you think this looks like Nauthiz or Gebo?"

She leaned over the plates, surveying the illusion. "It's Nauthiz. Oh, Remus, for God's sake _stop it._ Just eat something."

"I am eating," said Remus, shoveling a forkful of beans into his mouth. "Look, see? Now, what about this one? I thought it was Ehwaz at first, but now I'm starting to think it looks like a really scratched-up Mannaz."

"_Remus!_" Jill waved an irritable wand at the illusion and the translations, which both flickered and vanished. "_There. _Now we can have a nice, civil, romantic dinner, without--"

And then the door flew open, splintering against the wall. Remus sprang to his feet, grabbing his wand, but whoever it was was too quick--there was a loud bang and he shot backwards, the wand flying out of his hands.

_Only Circle members are able to open that door! _he thought, his mind wiped blank with panic. _What the bloody hell--_

"Benvolio, I presume?" said a dark, cold voice, and a tall man was stepping through the twisted wreckage of the doorway, a black half-mask partially obscuring his face.

"Get out," snarled Remus, fighting his way to his feet. Jill, cowering at the desk, gave a little whimper.

"You can make this hard, if you want to," said the man, leaning comfortably against the broken doorjamb. Remus had the horrible, chilling feeling that, although the door was unbarred and unobscured, no one outside the room would be able to tell that anything strange was going on... "I don't think you want to."

"I'm not going to tell you anything," said Remus, more bravely than he felt.

"Oh?" The man sounded amused. "Will she?"

"Don't you_ dare _try to hurt her!" Remus was on his feet in an instant, knowing he couldn't do anything to protect Jill, knowing...

"Don't worry," drawled the man, tapping his wand unconcernedly against his other hand. "I'd rather hurt you." He leveled his wand at Remus, even as--behind him--several more goons piled into the room. "Impedimentia."

Remus felt his arms and legs lock to his sides and he collapsed, stiff-limbed, to the ground, knocking his head painfully against the desk in his descent. Why wasn't Jill doing anything? Was she just going to sit there?

_Ani,_ a treacherous part of his mind thought, _would have dived for the wand and gone for all of them, guns blazing, by now. She might even have won._

"There," said the leader of the invading party, not changing his lazy stance at all. "Now we can talk civilly."

He smiled.

  
  


When the first of Remus's screams hit the invisible barrier outside his office, Peter Pettigrew cringed and crumpled against the wall, silent tears sliding down his cheeks. How had he sunk so low? How could he have betrayed Remus? His hands clenched and unclenched, remembering...

_Are you going to help me again, Peter?_

_ No! I'm not going to help you any more!_

_ Aren't you?_

_ Never!_

_ Why not?_

_ I...I'm not going to betray them! My friends...my comrades..._

_ Ah, but you've already betrayed them, Peter...it's too late now..._

_ It isn't!_

_ Do you think they'll forgive you, Peter? Once they find out what you've done, do you think they'll just...let it go?_

_ I--_

_ They'll kill you, Peter._

_ No they won't!_

_ You might as well help me. You've crossed the line, now. It's too late...you can't go back..._

_ I--I--_

Just as Voldemort had known he would, he'd given in. Again. He'd told the Dark Lord how to get past Dumbledore's wards, how to reach Remus's office. He'd opened the office door when the Death Eaters apparated in. And now they would torture him, torture Moony until he gave out the information they wanted.

Though he couldn't hear Remus's cries, he could imagine them well enough. He knew what the Cruciatus curse felt like...oh yes, he knew well what the Curse felt like. 

Peter Pettigrew whimpered in anguish.

_Oh God, Remus, I'm so sorry..._

  
  


Sirius sat by Anika's bedside, listening to her fevered breathing and occasionally sponging the sweat off her forehead. Dumbledore had assigned him the task before apparating off somewhere, not telling anyone where he was going. He had a habit of doing that, Sirius thought irritably, pushing a spare strand of hair out of his friend's face. Of course Dumbledore had business of his own to attend to, but when one of his own wizards was in as bad shape as Ani was...

Her lips were twitching, her eyes convusively clenching shut, and she took deep, shuddering breaths. A small moan escaped her throat, and she kept shivering as though she were cold when in fact her skin burned under Sirius's touch.

_Fever dream_, he thought sympathetically, running his hand along her clammy hairline. _Poor Ani._

In a sudden explosion of movement, Anika clutched at his arm, her eyes wide open and staring into the room, blank and terrified. Her breath came faster now, her chest thrashing furiously under her thin hospital nightgown, and he realized that she was beginning to cry.

"Hush," whispered Sirius softly, gathering her into his arms as she sobbed and shook against him like a child. "Hush, baby. It's all right."

And then he was just whispering into her ear, knowing she couldn't understand or hear but just wishing she could. "Ani, when I was a kid and I was sick, my mum used to sing to me...I know, it's the tritest, sappiest thing I've ever heard, and if you weren't out of your mind with fever and pain you'd slap me silly for suggesting it. But it always made me feel better."

He didn't sing much, and the cigarettes had made his voice huskier, darker, than it would otherwise have been...but Lydia Black, his mother, had once had a fine voice, and Sirius had inherited it, low and sweet and smoky.

_Summertime, and the livin' is easy_

_ Fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high_

_ Well your daddy's rich, and your mama's good-lookin'_

_ So hush, little baby, don't you cry._

He rocked her slowly back and forth as he sang, feeling like an absolute idiot but at the same time feeling oddly comforted, serene.

_One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singing_

_ You're gonna spread your wings, oh and take to the sky_

_ But till that morning, there's nothing can harm you_

_ With mama and daddy standing by._

  
  


The man's boot heels clicked on the floor next to Remus's head. He could hear the footsteps, feel every vibration they sent racing into his skull. He was breathing heavily now, drawing in breath in ragged, painful sobs, and dimly, he could hear Jill sobbing "Stop, stop it...don't hurt him any more..."

"Who are you trying to protect, Benvolio?" asked the stranger in strangely gentle tones. "Your friends? What makes you think they'd protect you?"

"They would," said Remus, forcing the words through his burning throat. "No matter what, they would."

The man laughed, and grabbed Remus's chin, forcing Remus to look him full in the face. "Is that what you think? Do you want to know what they really think of you?"

And then he was falling, falling into the man's cold, pale-blue eyes, and he was being spun inside out and backwards and his head was spinning and--

He was standing in a room--all furnished in blue, it was, with stone walls and sun-flooded windows. It was the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory, he realized in surprise. What was he doing there?

As if some invisible wind had caught it, the curtains of the nearest bed drew back. Two people lay there, wound into a tight embrace. The girl's face was turned towards him--Ani?

_He's an idiot if he thinks this can hurt me,_ thought Remus with bleak gratification. _I'm over her._

And then the couple rolled over, and he saw who the man was. 

Sirius.

But not a twenty-year-old Sirius--no, this Sirius was younger, unscarred, his face still smooth instead of speckled with the rough stubble he now wore. The two were passionately tangled in each other, kissing as though each kiss was breath and life...

They wouldn't, Remus thought desperately. He's bluffing. He's trying to get me to believe an illusion.

_What about Remus?_ moaned Ani against Sirius's lips.

_Who cares about him? _Sirius flashed her that quick, breathtaking smile and stifled any other protests she might have with his body.

_ He'll be hurt._

_ So what? He's not worth your concern, Ani._

"I know it's a lie," said Remus aloud. "And this is the stupidest torture I've ever heard. You should go back to ripping my insides out if you want me to tell you where the runes are."

But still...he'd always wondered...Sirius and Ani always spent so much time together...could they ever have...

"They care about me."

_Keep telling yourself that._

"They do!"

But he was looking into their eyes, and he realized that he'd seen them look at each other that way before...it wasn't just a dream, he'd seen them...

And then the room swirled away, and he was back in his own bruised, aching body, lying on the floor of his office.

"With that in mind," came his torturer's voice, unhurried and comfortable, "let's try this again. Where are the rune translations?"

"I'm not going to tell you," and he gritted his teeth against the inevitable. And then the pain hit him, and he was being ripped into shreds, he was burning, every inch of his body was being eaten alive--he tried not to scream, but he couldn't help it--the fire ripped into his throat and he was trying to throw up but there was nothing left in his stomach--

"No!" screamed someone.

_Oh God, Jill_, he thought wearily. _Don't do anything stupid._

"I'll tell you where they are! I'll tell you...just stop hurting him..."

Panic hit him like a lightning bolt. "Jilly, don't!" He tried to scramble to his feet--"You can't, Jilly, you can't, stop it--"

One of the larger men stepped forward and kicked him, hard, in the stomach. Remus gasped, doubled over, and rolled onto his back, unable to speak.

She was trembling, sobbing into her hands. "The first verse...I have it..." She was mumbling something into the air, and then the precious parchments with their hard-earned translation was in her hands, and she was handing it to the tallest man, tears coursing down her cheeks. "And the second verse...the second verse..."

"No, Jilly, no..." His voice was almost a moan.

She stopped, about to sketch out the figures that would draw the runes to her. "I..."

"Hurry up, bitch!" barked the leader.

"Jill..."

And then she let her hands fall to her sides. The half-formed illusions faded away, and she stared up at them, for the first time seeming almost dignified. "No."

The leader flashed her a toothy smile. "Well. I see you've outgrown your cowardice."

She met his gaze fully, drawing herself up as though the sight of Remus's silent defiance gave her strength.

He shrugged. "Then you've also outlived your usefulness. _Avada Kedavra_."

A flash of poisonously green light--a vast whirling sound, as though some foul wind rushed through the chamber--

Jill collapsed, soundlessly, into a crumpled heap on the floor. 

"Enter Ophelia," said the leader, the smile on his face not even twitching. "You'll let her know we stopped by, won't you, Benvolio? I'll be back for you, you can count on it."

And then they were gone, leaving Remus a broken heap on the flagstones even as the air whirled away and Dumbledore was suddenly there, a look of terrible anger mixed with terrible helplessness on his peaceful old face. 

_He was too late_, thought Remus in grieving disbelief just before the pain became too much to bear. _Dumbledore was too late._

The room fell away, and the last thing he saw was Jill's face, pale and slack against her white-blond hair.

* * *

Part IX: Just for the Moment

* * *

"Amen," rumbled the congregation, staring down into the dark hole of Jill Prewett's grave. There was a soft thump as someone threw their handful of grave dirt onto the coffin; Remus felt someone stuff a handful of the dark, rich-smelling loam into his hand, and he opened his fingers, letting it fall softly onto the coffin lid.

The sun broke through the clouds for one shifting moment, and then retreated. It was neither a cruelly sunny day nor a properly rainy one: it was mostly cloudy, and awfully chilly for September. He could see Anika shivering uncontrollably at her place across the grave. Lily had an arm about her friend's shoulders, but Remus knew that Anika's reaction had nothing to do with grief. She'd barely known Jill, at any rate. The girl was ill, there was no denying it.

Or maybe it wasn't simple illness. She'd seemed to be recovering, but then she'd come to the funeral, and at the first scent of fresh grave dirt she'd had a sort of relapse. Remus could see the bright, feverish spots of color at her sharp cheekbones, the dark hollows under her eyes. 

He forced himself to look back down at the grave. He wished, desperately wished, that he could feel something--anything besides this vague sort of guilty apathy, nothing quite as concrete as self-blame, nothing quite as violent as sorrow.

_Would anything have been different_, he wondered,_ if I'd loved her more? Maybe I could have protected her...or, _he realized,_ if I couldn't love her, I could've had the courage to tell her so. _

Anika felt the cold, sluggish water pulling at her ankles, apparently gentle but with a violent, unpredictable undertow...it was a great effort to resist that undertow, to stay within the borders of Life, but Jill's spirit was so close...

_You could save her_, whispered a nasty little voice at the back of her mind. _Just reach into the water and pull her out. Just like the mouse._

No, but that was wrong. Bringing back human beings was an unpleasant business; they could retain their soul in a human body, but the body would rot and the soul would keep burning within it, unable to be released except by another necromancer. Usually the Returned were desperately tragic figures, childlike in their innocence and naivete (for the mind was not necessarily brought back with the soul) unable to do anything but mindlessly obey the commands of the Necromancer who brought them back. Anika shuddered at the thought.

_You never asked for this gift,_ said the cold little voice, _it just happened to you. It's not wrong to use it; you were given it for a reason. You could just reach down...into the water..._

The chilling current grew still colder and suddenly Anika broke and twisted to her knees, retching into the sparse cold grass as the group of Circle wizards around the grave gasped and turned to see what was wrong. And then there were strong arms around her neck and thighs, and someone was wiping her sweaty hair out of her eyes, and someone was swinging her up and carrying her away, muttering a quick apology to Dumbledore as he did so.

"I'm sorry," moaned Anika. "I'm so sorry."

The voice that replied was smoky and warm...Sirius... "Don't be. You're ill. You shouldn't have come out in the first place."

"I didn't mean to..."

"I know. Shh. Come on, up to your room. You're not going back to that hospital wing, it smells like the insides of shoes in there and you've spent enough time in those crinkly beds anyway."

They had reached the castle and he was carrying her up one of the massive staircases when suddenly she heard a shrill, spiteful voice crowing, "Ooh, what's this then? Am I interrupting a romance novel?"

"Go away, Peeves," said Sirius wearily.

"Going to carry her over the threshold, then? Don't let me distract you," cooed the poltergeist, swooping around them in tight little circles. 

"Ani," muttered Sirius under his breath, "what was that spell Remus thought up? The prank-reversal charm?"

"Waddiwassi," whispered Anika. "Quick, those circles are going to make me puke again."

Almost lazily, Sirius produced his wand--somehow managing not to drop her--and pointed it at Peeves. "Waddiwassi!"

Suddenly, Peeves's circles were completely out of control--he was spiraling up into the air, cursing, and then he hit the ceiling with a crash and hovered there, slightly dazed.

"Hurry," said Anika urgently, "before he recovers," and Sirius sprinted up the rest of the staircase to the West Tower room, both of them giggling with relief.

He placed her gently on the bed and pulled the comforter over her, smiling tenderly into her eyes. "Now, don't you dare get up. I'll get you a book and some hot tea and honey, shall I?"

"Thank you, Mother," teased Anika, fighting the nausea that had invaded her stomach.

"No problem, dear," said Sirius amiably, and slipped out the door.

When someone knocked a few moments later, Anika said "come in" without thinking, and so almost choked when the door opened and someone sallow and bearded and _definitely_ not Sirius came in.

"Severus," she managed to say, going suddenly very cold. "What do you want?"

Snape looked very mutinous. "I brought you a Stomach-Settling Draft."

"Why?" asked Anika suspiciously. "Did you poison it?"

"I'm not the same person I was when I was fifteen," said Snape softly. "I don't like to see people sick if I can fix it. Even if I don't like them."

"It's not _my_ fault you don't like me," Anika spat. "Trying to feel me up in the garden after the Halloween ball didn't do wonders for our relationship."

"I was fifteen," said Snape again, watching her with eyes like tunnels. "You can't keep judging me like I'm fifteen."

It was like some bizarre dream--Severus Snape, the bane of her youth, was lecturing her on taking the high moral path and bringing her medicine for her stomach. "Thank you for the draft, Severus," she said expressionlessly, not looking at him. "You can...put it by the bed. I'll take it in a minute."

"All right," said Severus, coldly. "Don't think this means I like you, Donelan--I just don't want you throwing up all over everything."

"Good," said Anika, feeling a sudden, overwhelming rush of relief. "For a minute there I thought I was going to have to pretend to like you."

"A fate far worse than death," said Severus rather bitterly, and then the door creaked open again and Sirius came in, holding a mug of hot tea in one hand and a pile of books in the other. He stopped very suddenly at the sight of Severus and said coldly--to Anika--"What's _he _want?"

"None of your business, _Black_," snapped Severus.

"He was just leaving," said Anika, arching one eyebrow at Severus.

"Good," said Sirius icily, staring at Severus with absolute hatred in his pure-black eyes.

Severus's eyes widened; he looked from Sirius to Anika, and then back to Sirius, and some kind of realization came into his dark eyes. "_Oh_," he said bitingly, and sniffed.

"Go on," said Anika. "Go."

A tiny, unpleasant smile tinged Severus's mouth, and he whipped around and left, the draft he'd brought still smoking by the bed.

"What was _he _in here about?" asked Sirius, staring piercingly at the door.

Anika shrugged. "Brought me some kind of medicine, but I think Dumbledore made him."

"Don't drink it! I'll bet you ten Galleons it's poisoned--"

"You're on," laughed Anika, and before he could respond she'd raised the goblet to her lips and swallowed it all in one gulp, making an awful face as it slid bitterly down towards her stomach.

"Ani, you _idiot!_" gasped Sirius, snatching the cup away an instant too late. "You're going to end up--belching slugs, or something!"

Anika sat very still, but nothing unpleasant seemed to be happening--except the horrible, fat, prickly aftertaste of the potion in her mouth. Indeed, her stomach seemed to be quieting, although her headache felt slightly worse.

"I'm going to hold you to your ten Galleons, you know," she said, and laughed for no reason at all.

*

Lily came into her friend's room at ten o'clock that night to find her bent over a rack of test tubes on her desk, squinting at the information label on a blood sample and absently stirring a bubbling concoction over a Bunsen burner with one hand.

"What are you doing?" scolded Lily, the sudden noise making Anika jump and almost drop the sample. "Working? Now? In your condition?"

"Gods, Lily, you nearly gave me a heart attack," said Anika weakly, clutching her chest. "Knock next time, would you?"

"Oh, _you_," said Lily scathingly, snatching the sample away and turning off the Bunsen flame. "You are awful. Go to bed, for heaven's sake. Sirius warned me you'd be doing this."

"He did, did he?" asked Anika grimly, sighing. "Should've known."

Lily made a face. "I hate to say it, but for once in his life our incorrigible Padfoot is actually right. You _should_ be resting."

"Just because no one else around here ever does any _work_," but Anika sighed and climbed resignedly into the bed. Lily, with a comforting creak, sat down next to her and passed her the book that was on the nightstand--though not before sneaking a glance at the cover. "'Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do With Them Now You've Wised Up.' Sounds like interesting reading...what're you looking up? Been seeing the future lately?"

"Nose out, carrot top, or I'll turn you into a moose," said Anika threateningly, opening the book to the N section. 

"I won't fit into my wedding dress!" said Lily in mock horror, widening her bright green eyes.

Anika burst out laughing. "You'd be a very lovely moose, Lily dear."

"Not much comfort when you've got antlers," said Lily bluntly, wrinkling her nose. "Anyway, I had a real question for you, if you want to shut up and listen."

Anika peered owlishly at her friend over the top of her book. "Why is it that I don't have any friends with whom I don't constantly bicker?"

"What?" asked Lily, momentarily confused.

Anika sighed. "Nothing. Go ahead."

Lily glared at her. "I was _going_ to ask you if you wanted to be a bridesmaid at my wedding."

Anika dropped the book on its spine and gaped at Lily, open-mouthed. "Wh--you want me to--"

"Yes, you idiot," and Lily's face split into a wide grin. "You. Will you?"

"Well of _course_," Anika fairly screamed, and tried to jump up and hug her friend, but found her feet entangled in the sheets and ended up doing a very undignified belly-flop into the mattress.

Lily helped her up, giggling. "Calm, dear, calm. You're sick."

"To hell with calm!" cried Anika happily. "And to perdition with sick! When do we get to go pick out dresses?"

*

"Moony looks like Dracula, Dracula," sang Sirius, waving his hands enthusiastically in time to his strange little ditty. "Moony looks like Dra-cu-la in his brand--new--suit!"

"Better than me," said Peter irritably, sneaking a glance at himself in the mirror. "I look like a vaguely threatening penguin. How'd I let myself get into this?"

"Maybe because James is your best friend, you silly git," said Sirius, surveying himself critically in Madame Malkin's large mirrors.

"Oh, but you look _magnifique_!" cried the mirror in a sweet, breathy French accent. "Zat collar ees _so_ perfect on you! Turn it up a beet, round zee edges--oui, comme ça! Ooh, you are making me get all foggy!"

"Er," said Sirius uncertainly. 

Remus sighed. "I do look like Dracula, don't I?"

"A lot of women really like that," said Sirius encouragingly. "There's something very sexy about vampire chic. Get yourself some plastic fangs and a cape and I bet all the girls will just fall over you. Maybe some of the men, too, you never know."

"Thanks," said Remus expressionlessly, staring at his own haggard reflection. "Thanks a lot."

*

The Godric's Hollow church smelled like lilies--of course, all the flowers that twined about its small wooden walls were Easter lilies, white and pure. Sirius, feeling very starched in his newly-pressed tuxedo, was trying to ignore his pounding headache. Last night, he'd had at least six (seven?) glasses of a drink he'd invented himself, which he'd called "Willing Dryad." It had been quite the success at the bachelor party, especially taking into consideration that Sirius himself had no real idea what was in it, and suspected that the ingredients might include Mrs. Skour's All-Purpose Cleaner and possibly some kind of pesticide. And it had given him a Zeus of a headache.

James, on the other hand, had managed to resist the temptation to drink, and looked bright-eyed and alert, staring determinedly down the aisle, a white rose in his lapel.

"Shoulders back, buddy," muttered Sirius in his friend's ear. "Chin up. Here she comes..."

"Oh god," whispered James, shaking a little.

"Don't get nervous!" hissed Sirius. "This is the proudest fucking moment of your life. This is what you've been waiting for since you first met her. _Look up. Look at her._"

And then the entire congregation was turning in their chairs, craning their heads to look at the double doors as they creaked open and someone was floating in...a vision in white, a Lily-that-was-not-Lily but was something entirely more, something too beautiful to be earthly. Her hair--now nearly to her waist, thick and in shining, auburn waves, ribbons braided skillfully into it--shimmered down her back, under the delicate lacy veil that streamed out behind her. The gown was high-necked, low-waisted, with translucent lace sleeves and a skirt that flowed and frothed around her feet. She appeared to be staring fixedly at the floor, and the petals of the bouquet she held trembled slightly as she paced slowly down the aisle, Professor Dumbledore, on her arm. Behind her walked her matron of honor, Aline Sinistra, and her six bridesmaids. Anika, clad in a simple, silver dress, seemed to be blushing almost as much as Lily was.

In the audience, Hagrid--who towered a good three feet above anyone else, even seated--gave a muffled sob and collapsed into his handkerchief. Minerva McGonagall, though her eyes were watering as well, patted his arm sympathetically.

James swallowed audibly.

"She's breathtaking, isn't she?" said Sirius softly.

"Lily always takes my breath away," whispered James.

"Lily?" asked Sirius, momentarily confused. "Who said anything about Lily?"

James's eyes widened and he shot a sharp glance at his best man, but Sirius seemed to have already forgotten what he'd said, and as James looked back at his wife-to-be, he found himself forgetting it as well. 

_I'm not ready for this,_ his mind gabbled desperately. _It's too much, I'm too young. Look at Sirius, he's so independent, so confident, so...single. God help me_--and he looked up at Lily, utter panic jabbing at his mind--_I'm marrying this woman, and she's very beautiful and very graceful and expecting something of me and I have no idea who she is! I don't know anything about her! Who is she? How can I possibly be spending the rest of my life with her?_

And then they were holding hands and the priest was saying something about do you take this man until death do you part--_Death! Forever and ever and ever! No freedom! Never again! Forever! Who _is_ this girl?! Forever! Help! Get me out of here!--_and then James William Potter do you take this woman?

_Do I?_ he wondered frantically. _Can I? Can I possibly take care of her?_

"I do," he heard himself saying, without really meaning to.

And then the priest was saying "You may kiss the bride," and he was turning around and lifting her veil.

One look into her emerald eyes--as confused as his own, as frightened and unsure and worried--and suddenly there were no more questions. He leaned down, slowly, almost hesitating, but then their lips were together and everything was exactly as it should be. 

Anika whooped, but then went red and clapped her hands over her mouth, horrendously embarrassed.

Lily and James turned out to face the sea of people who loved them, who they loved, and they clasped hands tightly, grinned at each other, and broke into a run down the aisle, Lily's veil flying off her head as she laughed and ran faster. 

Sirius clapped so hard his hands hurt, joining in the sudden rousing cheers of the rest of the church and Hagrid's bawling. Anika, fumbling for her wand (which she'd kept up her sleeve), yelled, "_Effloresco!_" and white daisy petals, lily petals snowedfrom the ceiling and walls, coating the happy newlyweds as they exploded out the doors into the sunshine and everyone converged on them at once.

*

The reception was properly classy, at least until Sirius, in proper best-man tradition, stole and put on Lily's veil, shoved a piece of cake into James's face and offered sweetly to lick it off. This nearly got him kicked out of the church; only Lily's last-minute intervention between her furious priest (who adored her) and Sirius saved him, and Anika still hadn't stopped laughing by the time of the last toast.

Sirius stood up, clanging a spoon against his glass, and the chatter in the room went silent, all eyes turning to him. He looked, to Anika's utter amazement, completely sober, and cleared his throat.

"Um." Sirius paused, trying to collect his thoughts into a coherent speech. "Well." Another short silence; he stared around, realizing how everyone's absolute attention was focused on him. It was unnerving. "When I first met James, it was on the train to Hogwarts, our first year. Um. We sort of stumbled into the same compartment. He had sandwiches; I had none; I took his and ran. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

There was some nervous laughter. Sirius looked down; Anika was staring up at him, absently twirling a lily between her fingers, her head resting on her hand, her eyes heavy pools. She was smiling dreamily, her hair falling loose from its sleek updo to curl around her face. He gulped, continuing. 

"I met Lily around the same time, and I always...they always seemed to me to be almost one unit, even during the seven-hundredth time that they'd broken up and were ostensibly 'not speaking to one another.'" Laughter. "They're both very smart, very good-looking--" yet more laughter "--and very _kind_, sweet, generous people. They were both always giving themselves away. And I really want to keep this short, so--um--I--what I really was trying to say was--I'm glad they both found someone to give themselves away to. They found each other--they balance each other out...Lily gives to James, James gives to Lily. No one is hurt. An arrangement like that..." He grinned at James, spreading his hands wide. "To find your match, your perfect mate...that's a chance in a million. And nobody deserves it more than you two."

There was a collective sigh from the room, and the scattered "Awww..."

Remus cupped his hands around his mouth, yelled, "Padfoot, you talk pretty!" and ducked beneath the table to avoid Sirius' furious eye and Peter's laughter.

Deciding to ignore him, Sirius turned back to James, murmured, "To James and Lily Potter," and lifted his goblet high, his smile growing wider as he saw his best friend blushing profusely under his gaze. 

"To James and Lil," called back the assembled guests, one and all lifting their glasses high.

And then the band struck up again, and there was some polite applause and people drifted into couples for the last dance of the night.

_There's a saying old, says that love is blind_

_Still we're often told, seek and ye shall find_

_ So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had_

_ In mind..._

Sirius found himself suddenly muffled in a hug--looked up, and into James's infinitely gentle brown eyes. 

"Hey," said James softly. "It's been great."

Sirius forced a laugh. "It's your wedding, remember? That's a _good _thing. You act like you're about to die."

"It's a distinct possibility." James wasn't smiling; he was gripping Sirius's shoulder tightly, as though he were physically unable to let go. "I just wanted--to--tell you. That you're not as much of a motherfucking idiot as I like to pretend you are."

"No swearing! We're in a church," Sirius reprimanded him in mock horror.

James didn't laugh. "Padfoot--"

"I know, I know," and Sirius looked away. "I'm just no good at this male bonding crap."

"As long as you don't lick any more cake off my face," said James, and made a horrible face. "There was something else I wanted to tell you."

Sirius glanced up at him, not feeling even the faintest urge to laugh. "Yeah."

"Whatever--whatever happens," and James swallowed hard "--you've got to take your chances when they come, all right? You can't put anything off, because you never know whether or not you'll get a second chance."

Sirius blinked in confusion. "What are you--"

James groaned in exasperation. "Just how dense _are _you, Pads? I made that as obvious I could!" At his friend's uncomprehending look, James let out a long breath of aggravated air. "Never mind. I'm going to go dance with Lily."

_Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet_

_ He's the big affair I cannot forget_

_ Only man I ever think of with regret..._

Sirius didn't answer, didn't respond as James turned on his heel and took his wife's hand, leading her out onto the floor. Anika was sitting alone at the table, head in her arms, still playing with that same long-stemmed lily, one foot swinging back and forth under her frothy skirt in time to the music in subconscious invitation.

"Hey," he said softly.

_I'd like to add his initial to my monogram_

_ Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?_

She looked up, made a small tired sound, and grinned at him. "'Lo, Si."

He gestured out at the dance floor, plopping down on the bench beside her. "Not dancing?"

"Nah. I've got two left feet." She laughed self-consciously and leaned against him for a moment--then suddenly pulled away, going slightly pink and pushing her stray hair behind her ears. "Oop. Sorry."

"Sorry?" he echoed, confused. 

"Nothing," and she went very bright red and refused to look at him.

"What are you on about?" he asked, completely perplexed.

"Nothing, nothing--" Anika shook her dark head furiously. "I didn't want to intrude...leaning on you, and all."

"You're being stupid," he said faintly, trying as hard as he could to understand her. "You lean on me all the time. What's wrong with you tonight?"

She groaned, burying her head in her arms. "I don't even _know_, Si. Everything's just so weird. Lily and James getting married...and seeing everyone..." Her voice, oddly muffled by her arms, seemed to break slightly. 

"Your biological clock," intoned Sirius, "is ticking away. You're old, Ani, old as the hills. Nineteen! Nearly a thousand!"

"Shut up," came Anika's muffled voice, and she slapped at him with one hand. "It isn't funny."

"It is," said Sirius shamelessly, and then he was reaching out for her, grasping her chin in one hand and forcing her to look at him. She looked utterly miserable, her eyes--_those eyes, like the moon, the stars, the sky_--somehow deeply sad, her lower lip--_oh what a lovely mouth, as wide and warm and soft as melted butter_--trembling...

"I _am _a little misery tonight, aren't I?" she managed in a would-be-light tone, unable to look away from him.

"Dance?" crept out of his mouth before he could stop it, to dangle in front of them like a dare.

She scrubbed a hand across her face, looking very young for an instant, and then looked back up at him, a tiny smile teasing the corners of her mouth. "All right."

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see_

_ I hope that he_

_ Turns out to be_

_ Someone to watch over me_

She let her arms move, as if of their own volition, around his neck, nestling her head under his chin as his hands fell to the small of her back. "You're so tall..."

"Well, so are you," he countered, and she could feel the laughter that hovered in the back of his throat as it vibrated through her head.

They fell into a soft, slow rhythm, and suddenly, for no real reason, he crushed his arms so tight around her that she thought her ribs might break. She gasped out in pain and surprise. "Sirius! Ow!"

"Sorry," he whispered, feeling an idiot. Whatever had possessed him to do that? Some primal man-urge, he thought with dark humor. Me big and strong. Me protect woman. From imaginary enemies. At friends' wedding. Boy, me ever macho.

_She smells really good. Why do I always notice how she smells? That faint wet rain-scent, fresh, clean...the way her arms slope to her shoulders, the way her wrist bones swell under her skin like tiny suns. The stupidest things. Who cares?_

_I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood_

_ I know I could always be good_

_ To one who'll watch over me_

She found herself completely unable to understand her own feelings, to understand why the mere touch of his hand against her spine was making her shake, why the smell of him was making her feel almost sick, crazy...as though she had a fever but somehow more wonderful.

_The way his hair falls over his forehead, that beautiful small movement he makes when he shakes the strands out of his eyes, the way his eyes are always moving, dark anti-stars in a face as white as the moon--over here, over there, looking, searching for something. For what? And the way he doesn't smell like tobacco...wait, he doesn't?_

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed_

_ Follow my lead_

_ Oh, how I need_

_ Someone to watch over me..._

The piano's last notes faded, and Anika rested her head on Sirius's chest, still swaying back and forth as though the music was still playing. He grinned into her hair. "Song's over..."

"I want to go to sleep," she said plaintively into his chest. "Leave me alone."

"Look, if you really want to do that we should be horizontal," said Sirius without thinking, "not standing up."

Her face snapped up to his, horrified. "_What?!_"

Sirius went redder than Anika had been a moment before. "Nothing!"

Anika sighed and shook her head, drawing slowly out of his arms. "You're so stupid it's almost endearing."

"Thanks," mumbled Sirius. "You, too."

*

"You're getting _a what?!_" 

Anika stared at her friend in utter horror, as though Lily had said "a fatal brain tumor" or "six new husbands."

"A house!" said Lily proudly. "In Godric's Hollow! With stairs, and a cupboard, and" her face expressed throes of domestic ecstasy "a real _kitchen_..."

"You are spineless," snarled Sirius, directing this at James. "Spineless! Hopeless! Godric's Hollow is _hours _away! And isn't that the place with the Apparition wards up around everything?" 

"That's part of the reason we _chose_ it," Lily pointed out. "Security. We can't be too careful..."

"You're _always_ too careful," said Sirius furiously. "Both of you! What with you two moving out to the boonies, and Peter already off living with _Muggles_, for Chrissake--I'll never see any of you ever again! Except Ani and Remus, I mean," he amended, noticing Anika glaring pointedly at him.

"Oh come off it, Sirius, it's just a good excuse to spend more time on that motorcycle of yours," snappedJames, irritated.

Sirius considered this for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "It's a fair cop, I s'pose. Still, I don't know about this whole thing...Respectable people, buying cozy little town houses...what's next? Matching china! Engraved napkin holders! Babies!"

"We already have matching china," said Lily in a businesslike manner. "Molly Haberford--I guess she'd be Molly Weasley now--from school, gave it to us. Would you believe Molly?" she added, to James. "Three babies already! And twins in the oven, she told me in private. Lovely boys, her three..." 

"Babies're coming to you, too, so don't snicker," said Sirius in tones like the knell of doom. "Babies with curly red hair and big brown eyes and little chubby cheeks." He pinched invisible cheeks in demonstration. "Babies with pet names like 'Pumpkin' and 'Cutie-Pie-Pie.' Sickening."

"I'll let you be godfather," said James cajolingly.

"Which makes you honorary godmother, Ani," Lily put in, laughing.

Anika choked, and made a strangled noise of protest.

Sirius stared at Lily, at Anika, back to Lily. "I am not sharing my godfathering priveleges with her!"

"Why is my godmothership dependent on his godfathership?!" demanded Anika of Lily, who was laughing too hard to be any help. "That isn't fair!"

"You know, I don't think godfathership _has_ any priveleges," said James thoughtfully.

"That's stupid," said Sirius, irritated. "Why not?"

James shrugged. "Just the way it is, I suppose. You just have to buy the kid lots of presents, that sort of thing."

"Hah!" said Anika triumphantly, turning away from the helpless Lily. "Take it, then! I want no part of this thankless business!"

"Too late," said Sirius immediately. "You have to help me now!"

"I do not!"

"Yes you do!"

James took one look at his wife, who was convulsed with laughter, and suddenly found himself joining in her hilarity.

Anika glanced at Sirius, at the helpless Potters, back at Sirius. "Um. Should we do something about this?"

"What's so funny?" wondered Sirius aloud. "Whatever is the matter with them?"

"You idiots," Lily managed, "you two absolute _idiots_!" And she collapsed again, in paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter, clutching the gasping James for support.

Anika shrugged at Sirius.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head mournfully. "Houses and babies. We never should have let them get married."

*

Anika tapped her boots against the kerb, shivering in the wet and cold as she leaned against the lamppost and rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms in an attempt to stay warm. The rain drummed against her umbrella-less head, her hair in thick wet strings. The light, obstinately, refused to change, the red hand glaring at her through the droplets.

There was a loud thrumming from down the street, a rhythmic, mechanical purr. She turned; a motorcycle, shiny with chrome and care, was cutting up the street, splattering muddy water in every direction. Someone bent over the handle, clad in classic biker style, with a black leather jacket and bright silver studs. _It's going to splash me,_ she thought dismally, stepping slightly back.

To her surprise, the motorcycle pulled straight up to the kerb, next to her. With a jangle of silver and a leathery creak, the rider pulled off his helmet, shaking his long, untidy wet hair out like a soaking dog. He grinned at her, flashing bright white teeth; it was Sirius. "Bit wet, are we?"

She pointed meaningfully at the sky, low and grey, and said acidly, "Well spotted!"

"Want a ride?"

She shook her head, smiling faintly at him. "I'm all right. Thanks, though."

"Come on!" He scrubbed one pale hand through his hair, sending crystalline drops scattering in every direction, mingling with the rain. "You can't expect me to just leave you there, can you? Where are you headed?"

"It's only a couple of blocks. Lily and James's apartment. Lily left the bracelet James got her at my place; I just thought I'd return it."

"That's not a couple of blocks, that's more than a mile! What are you doing--in this weather? When you're not well?"

She kicked at a stone on the sidewalk. It rolled into a puddle with a dull plop and sank. "You _know_ I can't afford a broom."

He frowned. "Why don't you Apparate?"

She shrugged, uncomfortably. "Failed the test. Left my right foot in Sylphwood-on-Teifi."

Sirius hissed sharply. "Can't have been pleasant."

"It's not something I'd like to repeat." Anika shuddered, partly at the memory and partly from the cold. "Besides, walking keeps me in shape. And it really isn't far."

"I still feel bad, just leaving you standing there all wet and...bedraggled. If that's a word." He patted the seat of his motorcycle encouragingly. "Please?"

She eyed the vehicle distrustfully. "Look, Pads, it's not that I'm averse to flying deathtraps with hooker names or anything, but I'm really all right walking."

"Ani...I'm not going to leave you standing here." He swung one lanky leg over the side of the cycle, helmet cradled in the crook of one elbow. "I'll wheel the bike and just walk alongside you if you make me."

Anika almost laughed. "Don't..."

"Why not?" he asked playfully. "Here--" he shrugged out of the jacket and settled it around her shoulders. It was heavier than she expected and smelled like cinnamon and sandalwood and burning logs, delicious, warm smells that crept into her brain and settled there. "At least you won't freeze now."

She sneaked a glance at him, her gentle smile showing just the thinnest line of white teeth. "You can't really expect me to walk off with your jacket."

He leaned back against the motorcycle as though not even noticing the raindrops that splattered against his broad shoulders and made oily puddles in the street, and shrugged expressively. "It looks good on you."

"Sirius..."

"Look, Ani, if you _really_ feel bad about it, you could let me give you a ride."

She looked from Sirius to the bike, and then back to Sirius. Then she heaved a gloomy sigh, said "I'm going to regret this," and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, straddling it rather uncomfortably.

"Lovely," said Sirius enthusiastically, tossing her a spare helmet that had previously dangled from the handlebars. He climbed in front of her, leaving her only his own muscular back to grip, and shot her a devil-may-care grin over his shoulder. "Hold on tight, now."

"If you make even the slightest movement towards crashing, I'm going to pull your hair out in clumps," said Anika sincerely. 

Sirius laughed, but tucked his hair under the helmet just in case, though he left the visor up. "Why so worried? How different is this from a broomstick?"

She put her own helmet on, then wrapped her arms around his chest, took a deep breath, and squeezed the seat desperately with her legs. "With you, Pads, even a broomstick can be a flying deathtrap."

"'S nice to know you trust me. Ready?" called Sirius, and before she had a chance to answer they shot off into the sky.

Anika let out a terrified squeak and buried her face between his shoulderblades, trying not to look at the long swath of street that suddenly spread out below her. The rain whipped against her face, beating against her lips. Sirius laughed at her, revving the bike into an even faster clip with one leather-gloved hand. They swerved dangerously to one side to avoid a poky old man on a broomstick, slipping to a nearly horizontal position as Anika shrieked and clutched Sirius even more tightly, if that was possible. As they tore off, she thought she heard someone yelling in a shrill, quavering voice, "Young hooligans!"

She tightened her grip--felt his heart beating under her fingers--and suddenly realized, with a jolt, how close they were, how much of him she was suddenly touching--and then she felt safe, protected...There was something about him, the shape of him under her palms, against her body, something strong and sure and proud and beautiful. He wouldn't let her fall, she knew...no matter what happened, they wouldn't fall.

It was as though he was sensing the same thing, at the same time--with one strong hand, he seized her wrist, crushing her hand almost violently to his lips and kissing it. Anika leaned against him, less clutching than simply resting, and smiled.

"There's Lily's place," yelled Sirius, against the driving wind. He made as if to touch down, but then--barely knowing what she was doing--Anika clambered to her knees, balancing precariously on the seat, and moved her hands to his shoulders, bending over to breathe into his ear, "Why stop now?"

He whipped his head around to her. "What are you doing? You're going to fall!"

"You won't let me. Let's keep riding," she said gently, leaning her chin against his shoulder. 

"Wh--where?" he managed, unable to concentrate, circling aimlessly, feeling her soft lips against his temple, her sweet breath in his ear.

"I don't know," she whispered, locking her arms around him. There was no better time, she thought dizzily, no better time or place or reason. "Your place or mine?"

_About damn time_, thought Lily happily, watching the motorcycle spin off into a straight course directly away from the apartment. James, standing next to her, wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She gripped it tightly, smiling at the sky. 

"I'm so glad," she said softly. "They'll take care of each other."

"Two halves," said James quietly, kissing her hair. "Anyone who can find their half is unimaginably lucky. One in ten thousand."

"Statistically," said Lily laughingly, "the odds are against us."

"To hell with the odds!" cried James dramatically, and pulled her closer.

*

Sirius's apartment was warm and comfortable, the curtains drawn, the rain pounding in a gentle rhythm against the windowpanes as he brought her inside and locked the door.

They stood there for a moment, simply watching one another, taking one another in.

_Is this what you want? _Anika asked herself, and Sirius, silently.

_I don't know. But I have to find out._

And then their lips were together and they were kissing softly, tentatively, almost unsure of what they were doing--but then they were more sure, their arms tightening around one another and the bare, silky press of skin-against-skin all of a sudden, and she smiled against his lips and he felt the odd curvature of her mouth and her hands, and she tasted herself on his breath and then they half-fell onto the bed, all hands and mouths and souls and sweet, aching longing somewhere deep inside, somehow resolved.

  
  


"I love what the rain does to your hair."

Anika almost laughed. "What, the frizz?"

"It isn't frizz." Sirius raised himself up on one elbow, the slanting moonlight illuminating the perfect lines of his shoulder muscles and collarbone. He made a vague sort of motion around his own head, trying to articulate the concept. "You shouldn't straighten it so much. It does all sorts of lovely curly foamy things. When I rule the world I shall make it rain every day, just so I can stare at your head." He ran his hand through the soft curls, feeling them tickle his palm. "It's like a halo, radiating around you, lighting up everything you touch."

"Do halos do that?" she laughed, gazing into his eyes.

"I don't know. Stop ruining everything!" He glared at her. "I like your hair, you goose. I love your hair."

"You shall have it then," said Anika dreamily, "when I die I shall have them make it into a beautiful wig and you can put it on your next lover's head and dream of me."

"When you die," said Sirius with more certainty than he felt, "I will be far too old for lovers. I will, in fact, be spooning up applesauce in an old folks' home, complaining about the how small the bingo cards are, listening to polka music, forgetting where I put my false teeth, and pinching the nurses." He drew her further into his arms, resting his hands against the warm silk of her back. "Either that or I'll be dead."

"You'll never die," said Anika distantly, staring pensively at the ceiling, watching the cracks run in rivers and patterns over the plaster. "Never. And you'd better not let me catch you pinching nurses."

He laughed and nudged her forehead gently with his own. "Go to sleep."

"Now is not the time for sleep!" she cried theatrically, and smothered his laughter with a pillow blow to the head and a hard, almost bruising kiss.

They did not sleep for some time.

She sighed, listening to the rhythm of his heart and his breathing, her chin pillowed on his chest, and watched him sleep. His midnight hair was strewn around his shoulders, one long arm flung over his head, his lips half-parted in slumber. Anika let her fingers whisper to his back, tracing the sharp shoulderblades, the tatoo of Canis Major just below his left shoulder. She smiled suddenly, teeth flashing in the moonlight, wanting the strong slope of arms to be around her again, wanting to feel the silk of his muscles against her, to smell the intoxicating him-scent that had filled her nostrils for what felt like hours but had been such a short time...

His eyelids fluttered as he heaved restlessly against her, the pale trace of veins that rose delicately above his long eyelashes blue in the half-light.

She realized, not for the first time, how beautiful he was; beautiful, rather than handsome, pale and moonlit as an angel, a god. _Your match_, she heard Sirius saying at the wedding. _Only one in a thousand has that sort of luck._ What had she done to be so lucky? 

Outside, the October moon rose, big as a Galleon, yellow and full.

*

Lily and James stood with their arms around one another, staring deep into the pool as the man with the dark cowl shading his face waded deep into the clear waters, holding the tiny bundle in his arms. The bundle kicked restlessly, squirming in the man's hands.

"The boy's name?" came the man's deep voice from the depths of the cloak.

"Harold James Potter," said Lily quietly. "Harry."

Sirius sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Ceremonies, rituals, all these Big Important Moments in Life that he simply found nothing of value in...pompous, pretentious...but when Harry had been born, James and Lily had thought that if they were going to have a Muggle wedding, they wanted a real old-fashioned Wizard naming ceremony. Well, let them. He just wished he hadn't been forced to come...

_You're going to be a godfather,_ he reminded himself firmly. _Now would be a good time to start cherishing._

"Harry," repeated the man, and in a sudden swift movement ripped the cloth from the baby's body and dropped it onto the water where it floated like an oil slick. Struck with the sudden surprising brightness of the sun, Harry let out a short, sharp cry, his small fists kneading the air.

The druid placed one hand on the child's small forehead, tracing out a short rune--the element under whose influence the boy had been born, the mark of his name in the older languages.

son of the stag, star of the morning--

--life-in-death, breath-in-water--

And it was then that Anika felt it, like a sudden blow to the stomach--the now-familiar cold just behind her eyelids, the hungry eagerness of the water as it strained towards her in force, an enormous wave bearing down on the tiny boy who lay in the arms of the druid in the water.

Anika gasped, and instinctively her muscles went rigid, refusing to allow the River to crash through her body, from Death into life, and sweep the baby away--_What do you want with him?_ she screamed silently at it. _Why is he so important?_

The water swirled into her ears, pounding angrily, demanding to be allowed passage into life. 

_No!_ and she tensed her body even tighter, feeling her feet being hammered away from under her--until Harry had a guardian, a godfather, she had to hold the river back--

Sirius hardly even noticed that Anika had gone pale and stiff, or the odd blueness that was forming on the tips of her fingers--the druid was beckoning him into the water, intoning some sort of incomprehensible babble in a deep, solemn voice about being the Guardian of Harry's Soul and blah blah blah, lead him not into temptation, blah blah blah surrogate father blah blah Sirius Black _hooooold _the child that is now_ yoooooours_.

Sirius reached out numbly, eyes so intent on Harry that he did not see the way Anika let out a short, sharp gasp and slumped over with sudden release and relief, or the way Remus, concerned, grabbed her arm and supported her on his shoulder.

The baby gave Sirius a quizzical look and tilted his head to one side, making a little noise that sounded like "Mu?" He looked, Sirius realized with some alarm, exactly like a short, fat, crinkled James with green eyes.

"He's like a miniature you, Prongs," Sirius called irreverently across the water. "A little fawn, a little baby stag. I think I'll call him Spots."

The druid eyed him with evident disapproval, although all that could be seen of his face under the thick cowl was the thin line of his lips. "Please...respect the _sanctity_ of this moment..."

Sirius looked up and locked eyes with Remus, who stood impassively at the edge of the pond, Anika leaning against his shoulder.

Remus stared straight back at him, willing down the flash of jealousy that tingled down his spine. _He gets everything...it's always been about him, hasn't it? He was James's best man...he's Harry's godfather..._

_ He got Ani._

Remus chanced a look at the girl, who still leaned against him as though exhausted, the cold of her skin burning through his robes. She was still so tentative about contact, as though afraid she imposed somehow by leaning on him...she'd always been like that at school, so afraid to kiss him or touch him in public, as though she might embarrass him or inconvenience him...

He looked back up at Sirius, noticing the way his friend's violet eyes narrowed in bewilderment and confusion at his expression. He smiled, faintly, ironically, as Sirius turned away from him and waded back towards the Potters, still cradling Harry in his arms. The faint weight of Anika against his neck and side sustained him, just for that crucial moment...

_Just for a moment, she's mine. Just for this moment I can remember what it was to love her._

_ Just for this moment._

And then the moment was over, and Harry was back in his parents' arms, and Sirius was turning back towards them, rushing to Anika, face furrowed with worry. Remus relinquished her effortlessly to Sirius, who immediately was holding her in those strong, slender arms as though he could protect her--as though he could dare! Remus had felt the cold of her skin, the cold that had washed through her ever since Jill had died, a cold that would never, ever be gone--and she was murmuring _I'm fine, honestly, don't worry..._

But the moment was over.

Harry cried out, softly, and Lily pulled him closer to her breast, whispering to him.

*

Sirius, feeling very out of place, adjusted his well-worn leather jacket and shifted from foot to foot, ignoring the pointedly incredulous glares of the society witches in their mink robes and stiletto heels, the rich wizards' butlers in suits and gold watches.

"May I help you?" inquired the jeweler, raising one eyebrow as he took in Sirius's shabby appearance, in particular the jacket and boots.

"Er, yeah," said Sirius, sidling forward to eye the glass case. "I wanted an engagement ring."

"Any...particular design in mind, Monsieur?" The "Monsieur" was decidedly snide, Sirius realized, but ignored it. 

"There was one I saw the other day, in the window...silver, it was. With a black opal set in the center. There was a sort of...twining...thingy round the opal. Yeah, a twiny sort of design." He made a spiraling motion with one finger to illustrate it. "Have you got that?"

"A black opal--a true black opal--is hardly within the _means_ of most young men of your...er...stature, Monsieur," said the jeweler coldly, wrinkling his bulbous nose. "Perhaps a small garnet..."

"I don't want a garnet," said Sirius indignantly, "if I'd wanted a garnet I would have said garnet, wouldn't I? I said _opal_, couldn't you hear me?"

"Certainly," said the jeweler, with a supercilious little quirk of his ratty moustache. "Does Monsieur realize that the ring he has selected is a work of art entitled _Northern Lights_, an original Circe studio piece, and is going to cost him" --the man leaned forward over the glass counter for emphasis "--over _three thousand Galleons?_"

Sirius nearly fell over, but somehow managed to keep his composure. "I said that was the ring I wanted and it is," he said with a good deal of dignity. _There goes all of Mum's inheritance that I've saved up for twelve years, _he added silently, with a mental groan. 

_But it's just the sort of thing she'd want me to spend it on. _"I can pay, I'm not penniless, and I'd like to see the ring."

The jeweler shrugged, obviously skeptical. "Monsieur will understand if I ask to--er--see some sort of proof of income?"

Sirius, sighing inwardly, pulled the leather pouch out of his jacket and upended it over the counter. Over thirty hundred-Galleon coins spilled out of it, clanging across the counter to spin to a halt on its edges or sloughing into a pile at the center of the glass. The jeweler gaped. The society witches and wizards stopped muttering unpleasantly to stare in shock.

"Three thousand, four hundred Galleons, that is," said Sirius wearily. "Is that enough?"

"The ring costs three thousand seven hundred," managed the jeweler, regaining his control.

"I'm not going to pay that much. Three thousand four hundred."

"Five."

"Four, and that's final. It's more than the thing's worth anyway."

The jeweler sighed as if he had been personally injured. "I'll go out of business."

"What a pity," said Sirius nastily, and as an afterthought "Put it in a nice box, please. You know, one of the posh little black ones, with velvet on it and all."

One of the mink-robed witches nearly fainted.

*

Sirius closed his eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths but only succeeding in inducing a sort of panicked hyperventilation. _This isn't so hard. This isn't so hard._ Across from him, Anika--apparently unaware of his discomfort--pushed her plate aside, smiling into his eyes.

He gulped, fingers clutching convulsively at the tiny velvet box in his pocket.

"Dessert?" asked Anika lightly.

"Er--no, thanks, I'm" Will you marry me? "full."

"All right, then." Short pause. "What is it? You look like there's something you're trying to say."

"Hmm? Oh, no," Will you please marry me and spend the rest of your life with me oh please? "just thinking. Do you want to go outside for a walk?"

"Sure." She stood up, dropping her napkin into her chair and waving her wand at the dishes, which flew promptly into the sink and began briskly scrubbing themselves.

They stepped out into the night, which was soft and warm, full of fireflies and the song of cricket and nightingale...the moon hovered above them, a crescent slit in the blueblack sky, and the street was empty and smelled of April.

Anika nestled into his shoulder, slipping an arm companionably about his neck. "Nice night."

He closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of her that always calmed him down, its salty sweetness mixing with the scent of the fresh grass that pervaded the street. 

They paused under one of the willows, near the path that led to Hogwarts, and Sirius suddenly pulled her to a halt, taking a moment to take in the drip of moonlight across her sharply pointed face and liquid hair. He took a very deep breath.

"Ani, I know this might not seem like the time or the place--I mean, it's all very funny and confused and I've tried to plan it out but it doesn't make sense, I wanted to have it happen in June or on the beach or somewhere perfect, you know, but I couldn't wait that long and everyone kept telling me so even though I wouldn't listen--and I know it sounds crazy, even though I thought this all out; I had a whole speech planned that I was going to give you, but then I opened my mouth to say it to you and this came out instead. And I _know_ I'm full of shit and sentiment, but I never thought I'd have to do this so I never took the time to decide what I was going to say and then you were different from any girl I'd ever known and I didn't even know what was happening but I had to--" he fumbled for the ring in his pocket and somehow managed to get it out-- "More than anything else I want forever with you, Ani, as much as I can say forever exists--and I don't really know if it does, but I want it with you no matter what...not just a year, or three or four, not that kind of forever--and not even twenty or fifty years forever, not just a lifetime forever, it wouldn't be enough, Ani, I mean _real _forever. Not even till death do us part, I need more than that from you. Oh God, I love you so much that it hurts, I never knew that happened outside of books--but you're so beautiful, and so sweet and kind and you're funny and you're brave and clever and even wise--but that's not why. I wanted to--I needed to know--Anika, will you marry me?" And he shoved the ring at her, mentally screaming and beating himself over the head. _You absolute idiot! Can't you talk? Can't you fucking _talk_?!_

"Oh yes," whispered Anika, her face alight with happiness, her eyes like twin silver moons. "_Yes_," and then she was kissing him and there were stars exploding behind his eyelids and the moon was tangled in her hair, the fireflies hiding behind her eyes and she was so incomprehensibly beautiful and he loved her more than life. Before he knew what was happening his hands were all over her and she was breathing him in, her fingertips cool half-moons against his shoulders and somewhere there was the most beautiful music, and everywhere smelled like roses and jasmine and rain.

Sirius was happy.

Anika burst into Lily's office, glowing with happiness and pride and each step a sort of floaty little dance. "Lily! Oh, Lily! The most incredible thing...the most wonderful..."

"Ooh, what?" asked Lily keenly, hoisting the slumbering Harry onto her hip. 

Anika was nearly crying. "Sirius asked me to marry him. And I said yes. And we're going to get _married!_" 

Lily burst out into laughter as her friend rushed into her arms. "I knew it! Ani, I'm just _so _happy for you...I knew it was going to happen soon...I'm so glad..."

"It....it's everything I ever wanted...Lily, I can't even..." She pulled back and displayed the magnificent ring, eyes alight with pride. "Look...it's a real black opal."

"Oh, it's _lovely_," said Lily enviously, running her soft fingers over the stone and the delicate ivy pattern that enclosed it.

"Lil, I'm so happy I can't even think..." and she fell back into the red-haired woman's arms, tears prickling at her eyes.

"I know," whispered Lily, almost crying herself at Anika's overwhelming joy. "How d'you think I felt when James asked me? And it's about time," she added acerbically, "Padfoot's taken long enough about it. He just doesn't know when he should grab onto something."

"Idiot," sniffed Anika into Lily's shoulder.

"I know," giggled Lily, settling her friend into the chair in front of the desk and adopting a businesslike air. "Now tell me all about it. What did he say? Where? What was it like?"

James and Sirius sat at the edge of the broken bridge over Raven Creek in companionable silence, dangling their legs over the rushing water and watching the sun rise. Sirius dropped a pebble into the river, the soft splash interrupting their peaceful quiet.

"Asked Ani to marry me yesterday," he said in conversational tones. "Said yes."

"Good," said James equably, chewing on a blade of grass.

Sirius leaned back on his elbows with a leathery creak. "You'll be best man, of course?"

"Sure." James picked up another pebble and hurled it into the water. He slung one arm around his friend's broad shoulders and grinned out at the sky. "A word of advice?"

"Go ahead."

"Let her plan it. Don't argue with her. Don't _ever_ argue with her--let her dress the bridesmaids in pink cellophane if she wants to. Trust me, it'll be much nicer for all concerned."

"All right," said Sirius, rather mystified.

There was a pause. A kingfisher swooped over the creek beneath them.

"Did you see the Wasps game the other day?" asked James at length.

Sirius groaned and rolled his eyes. "Bloody awful. That Bagman...man's got no _style_. No _finesse_. Just whack, whack, whack. Now Armand Patil--that man's a _quality_ Beater. Aim, that's what matters."

"Nonsense!" said James indignantly. "Aim's all very well, but what about power? You can't pretend a Beater doesn't need a strong arm. Patil's got no stamina, that's what's wrong with him."

"My money for best player, though, is that Ivan Wronski--have you seen the man? A genius, an absolute genius. Now, that match last week..."

*

Babysitting Harry was the easiest gig Anika had ever had--mostly because Sirius insisted on doing all the work. At the moment, he was engaged in teasing the boy with a dog biscuit--the one treat their young charge could not resist.

"Should you be feeding him dog biscuits, Si?" asked Anika worriedly, as Harry dribbled frantically and grasped at the treat, calling out plaintively for it.

"He's not eating it, is he?" Sirius pointed out logically. "No harm in wiggling it in front of his face."

She watched them play for a minute, until Harry made a dangerously close attempt to catch the biscuit and, in an attempt to keep it from him, Sirius stuffed it into his own mouth.

Anika stared at him, horrified. "Sirius! Did you just eat a dog biscuit?"

Sirius shook his head innocently, his crumb-covered mouth and chin betraying his guilt.

"You're awful! God forbid you should ever be a father--imagine how you'll corrupt your children!"

Sirius swallowed whatever dog biscuit remained in his mouth and pointed quickly to Harry, eyes still wide and innocent. "Look at him! He's happy! He's giggling!"

"Only because he likes it when I yell at you," said Anika grumpily, but subsided and watched them for a moment more, as this time the game did not involve dog biscuits--rather, insubstantial leaves from Sirius's wand that drifted over the room, sending Harry crawling as fast as he could after them.

"Did you hear about the McKinnons?" asked Sirius softly, eyes still on Harry. "Voldemort found them. Someone told him their codenames, and he came straight into their office...just like he did for Remus. Killed them, and hung their bodies up on the walls...as a warning..."

Anika's face went white, and she bit her lip painfully. "It's sick...it's like what happened to my father's team, it's all for fun...because the elemental likes it, because it feeds off it, because it's _fun._"

Sirius stared with unseeing eyes at Harry, now busily engaged in attempting to chew off his own foot. "And they won't be the last ones. It's happening everywhere, now. Muggles, too...dying off in droves, then showing up later...all in pieces...even kids, Ani, this is happening to kids. And there's nothing we can do about it," he added in a moment of sudden rage, "nothing!"

"I know," said Anika softly, watching Harry scrabble for one bright leaf and fall flat on his rear. After a short pause, she went on, "I don't want him to grow up in a world like this, Si. Why should he have to...and there's nothing we can do, nothing...it isn't going to stop. The serums are getting nowhere, and we've only gotten through the first three rune verses...what good is that? Sometimes it feels like it's really over, Sirius." 

He stared at her in shock...Anika, this hopeless? The expression on her face made something in his chest throb painfully, and he wanted so badly to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her it would be all right...

But he couldn't be sure it would be. 

Sirius snatched at Harry, with almost violent affection, and hefted the infant onto his hip, joggling the baby comfortably up and down and blowing into his thick hair. Harry crowed happily, grabbing at a long strip of Sirius's hair and yanking it energetically. "Yowch!" yelped Sirius, trying to detach Harry's strong little fingers. "Dear God, Spots, what _has_ Prongs been feeding you?"

Anika smiled a little, quickly taking Harry from his godfather's arms and tickling the tiny red paw until Harry, giggling uncontrollably, released Sirius's hair and rolled into Anika's arms, grabbing at her own silky locks. 

"Oh no," said Anika with a laugh, shaking her hair behind her shoulders where Harry couldn't get at it. "Oh no."

"Tickoos!" demanded Harry petulantly, making expressive grabbing motions with his crinkled fingers. "Anteenie tickoo."

Anika leaned over her godson, frowning deeply at him. "You don't really want tickoos, do you?"

"Tickoos!" said Harry again, more emphatically, pounding his fist against Anika's shoulder for emphasis. "Tickoo _ow_."

"All right, you asked for it," said Anika in a mock-growly voice, and dumped the boy on the couch, lunging at him with greedy, grabbing fingers. "_Raar!_"

"Noooooo!" shrieked Harry, kicking and squirming in ecstasy as Anika grabbed him around the protruding stomach and tickled him mercilessly.

"He likes you more than he likes me," said Sirius rather ruefully.

"Don't be silly, he just likes being tickled," said Anika briskly, flipping her hair back over her shoulders as she heaved the still-giggling Harry onto her shoulder. He laid his soft head against her neck, popping his thumb into his mouth like a cork, and his bright green eyes flicked drowsily over the room as he grew silent.

"Auntie Ani. Anteenie. Can I please call you Anteenie?" asked Sirius wistfully.

"_No_," said Anika firmly. 

"Good doggie," said Harry sleepily, from Anika's shoulder. "Pazzie good doggie."

"Pazzie has a smudge on his nose," said Anika, stroking Harry's back. 

Sirius frowned and went slightly cross-eyed searching for the culprit.

Harry giggled softly. "Pazzie bad?"

"This is Anteenie's only rule," said Anika. "No smudges. Pazzie go doghouse straightaway unless he washes his face. Bad Pazzie."

"Washoo face," said Harry earnestly, raising his head from Anika's shoulder to stare imploringly at Sirius. "Anteeenie _mad_."

Anika made a face at the top of the child's head. "Anteenie not very mad." And aside, to Sirius: "He's _smart,_ isn't he? Listen to him, talking away..."

Sirius nodded fervently.

"Mad," said Harry gravely, "less Pazzie washoo face."

Sirius watched her from the other side of the room, grinning uncontrollably. She looked good with a baby, he thought suddenly; the way her hair waterfalled over the top of her head as she bent over the tiny body, the way her freckles crinkled into her dimples when she smiled, the way her eyes lit up whenever she looked Harry's way. He suddenly found himself picturing her holding another baby instead of Harry, a baby with his mouth and her eyes, and a thatch of ebony hair. 

"I'm going to go put him to B-E-D," whispered Anika to Sirius, who nodded, still smiling, and watched them as they headed up the stairs to Harry's room.

"Pazzie pazzie pazzie pazzie," sang Harry to himself, nodding his head back and forth on Anika's shoulder. "Pazzie pazzie pazzie pazzie."

"Hush, Harry, sleepytime," whispered Anika, kissing Harry on top of the head.

"Mama," commanded Harry imperiously, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the enormous yawn that popped up at the same time as the word. "Want Mama."

"Mama's not here," explained Anika, bumping the door of the nursery open with one hip and muttering "Illuminatia!" at the lights.

"Where?" asked Harry fretfully, tossing a bit in her arms.

"She's with Papa," said Anika gently, placing the baby in his crib and patting the downy head with one hand. "They went to go have food together." Put that way, it sounded so stupid. "They'll be back soon. Go to sleep, now."

"No," protested Harry, another huge yawn obscuring the word. "Not..."

"_Yes_," and Anika pulled the soft blue blanket over her godson's shoulders and tucked it in under him. "Now _hush_." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the ceiling, muttering something, and suddenly the room was filled with insubstantial butterflies in rainbow hues, flickering over the walls and bed, and a soft, bell-like music filled the room. "Goodnight, now." She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, but he was already almost asleep and hardly even made the effort to snatch at her hair.

And then she turned, intending to shut the door and tiptoe out, and found Sirius leaning against the doorframe. Without a word, he put his arms around her and she rested against his chest, her head under his chin, watching the butterflies dip and spin over Harry's dark crib.

Sirius reached out and closed the door, stepping back and bringing Anika with him, and she turned in so that she was facing him, slipping her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, resting his hands at the small of her back and burying his face in her hair and they stood that way in the corridor, hanging desperately onto that tiny enclosure of happiness and serenity in a world going rapidly mad, for a very long time.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Part X: Sunset

* * *

Voldemort's tongue flicked out over his teeth like a cat's, testing the air, tasting the direction of the wind. It was a good day, he thought with a feral smile; the wind was from Gorias in the east, his strength was at its peak, and Wormtail's information meant the beginning of a new day for his quest...the end of two of his worst enemies...

He surveyed the masked circle of Death Eaters that surrounded him, watching impassively. They would have something to watch, he thought. Yes, they would certainly have something to watch.

"Snape!" he called, gripping the mark on his wrist tightly with one bone-white hand.

There was a quick rustle, a shuffle of cloaks, and the dark young man stepped into the center of the clearing, quickly sweeping a low bow. "My Lord? You summoned me?"

"Snape," whispered Voldemort slowly, seizing his servant's arm tightly, fingers probing the black brand on the forearm. Snape gasped in pain, trying to pull away, but the Dark Lord's grip merely tightened until the tattoo began to smoke, sizzle, writhe under his fingertips--

He ripped his hand away, smiling gently at his servant. Blood trickled down Snape's chin; he'd bitten through his lip in an effort not to cry out. Good. 

"Severus, you haven't done very well," whispered Voldemort, in the condescending scold of a preschool teacher to an unruly child. "Honestly, I expected better."

"My Lord--I don't understand--" The boy's desperate black eyes darted to the circle of wizards around him, but they made to move to help. He stared back at Voldemort, the panic, the submission growing slowly in his slack face...

"Of course you don't," hissed Voldemort, and in a sudden movement hurled Severus to the ground, where he lay staring up at his master in utter terror. "But you've let yourself become expendable. Silly of you, really..."

Comprehension dawned in the boy's eyes, and he tried to scramble away, babbling, "I'm so sorry, Milord...I never..."

Voldemort's fingers dug suddenly into Severus's forehead, shoving his head back so hard on his neck that there was an audible crack, staring straight into his servant's eyes and dragging him to his knees.

"No," moaned Severus, and the Dark Lord licked his lips again, breathing in the sweet reek of fear that filled the air.

He raised his wand.

  
  


Dumbledore was sorting papers in his office when there was a crack like lightning and the air in his office rearranged itself, sending papers swirling off the desk as Severus employed his personal privilege of Apparition within the wards of Hogwarts.

"He knows," gasped Severus, doubled over on the desk.

Dumbledore was on his feet in an instant. "Severus? What do you mean?"

"He knows," repeated Severus, clutching at his heaving chest. He'd never realized how painful it was to breathe, how much effort his lungs put into the simple motion of contraction and relaxation. He coughed, and pulled a hand away from his mouth to see the stain of red that had blossomed there. "Someone--I don't know who--told him who the codenames stood for. He already knew most all of them anyway, but now he knows about the Potters, and you know they were the ones he wanted the most. Dumbledore, there's someone besides me working for him--"

"Severus," and Dumbledore's voice was sharp, "what did he do to you?"

"Angry," mumbled Severus, "cos this person gave him the names before I did. Used the Cruciatus curse on me. He's going to go after them--you've got to keep them moving around--I don't know where he's going to strike--"

"You've done very well, Severus. _Stupefy_," said Dumbledore grimly, and Severus collapsed into a boneless heap on the ground, his pain quieted. 

The ancient wizard stood up and strode to the fire, snatching a handful of black powder from the jar on the desk and tossing it into the flames. "Poppy!"

The Healer's figure appeared and grew in the blaze, spinning faster and faster as it grew until suddenly Madame Pomfrey herself stepped out of the fire, brushing dirt from her spotless, rosy robes. "What is it, Albus?"

"Take Severus up to the hospital wing, Poppy, he's been hit with Cruciatus." The woman's face went pale, but she didn't stop to ask questions; she hoisted the young man into her arms and stepped back into the still-pink fire, whirling back to the hospital.

The headmaster stood a moment in thought and then, striding back to the desk, seized another handful of powder, flung it onto the fire, and called out "Romeo! Juliet! I need you down here, now!"

"Right," said Lily's brisk, competent voice, and a moment later the two of them were climbing out of the flames, barely even ruffled by the journey. "Sir?"

"I've received word...Voldemort's onto you. Someone's told him your codenames." Dumbledore's face softened, watching the way Lily's hands tightened on the hem of her work robes, the way James's eyes hardened resolutely behind his glasses. "I want you to go into hiding."

James gasped in shock; Lily looked horrified. "Albus, you can't be suggesting we should _run_ from Voldemort?"

"I know you want to fight him, James." Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "I understand it. But think of Harry...think of his safety...and you've got to go _soon_." He stared straight at Lily; the woman looked away, shaking her magnificent crimson head in resignation. "I know, Albus, I know. Above all, I don't want Harry to be in danger..."

"But we can't hide from him." James's eyes glittered, intense and worried. He looked nearly ten years older than he was; but then, Dumbledore thought sadly, James had looked old ever since Harry's birth, fatherhood bringing out a maturity and dignity in him that had always been there but had never been shown before. "There's nowhere we can hide from him."

"There is." Dumbledore ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes. "The Fidelius charm. It's the best chance you two have...but I'm almost afraid to use it..."

"But--"

"Why--"

"Because someone close to you--very close--is leaking information to the Dark Lord, and the charm requires absolute trust...whomever you choose as Secret-Keeper could be the one..."

"Call Sirius." James's voice was low, resolute, and decided.

"James..."

"Call him." There was a bitter, commanding edge to James's voice. 

Dumbledore locked eyes with his former student. "It would perhaps be safer if I were your secret-keeper."

Lily shook her head, taking over the conversation from her husband. "We can't put you in danger, Dumbledore. That's a risk that's too much to take."

There was a very long pause. James's determined brown eyes bored into Dumbledore's light blue ones, and then suddenly Dumbledore sighed again and ripped his glasses off, tossing them to the desk in disgust. "Very well. Your choice." He reached for the pot of powder on the desk, snatching out a pinch of the black powder, and got up to throw it into the flames. "Mercutio! A word with you!"

"And but one word with me?" Sirius's darkly amused voice echoed out of the fireplace a moment before his tall form appeared revolving in it, and a bare second later he was strolling out of the flames, hands in the pockets of his robes, to lean nonchalantly against the fireplace. "Couple it with something, Albus; make it a word and a blow."

"Voldemort knows James and Lily's codenames," said Dumbledore shortly, turning his back to Sirius to walk slowly back to his desk. "I have informed them that the Fidelius charm is their best chance. They wish you to be their Secret-Keeper."

Sirius went very white; he stared at James and Lily, who watched him mutely, and then back at Dumbledore. "Secret-Keeper....me?"

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "I will leave you three to discuss this...there is a patient in the infirmary that I should check on." He stepped out of the office, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Sirius collapsed very suddenly into the chair by the fireplace, staring at his best friends. "You want _me_...but..."

"Dumbledore says someone close to us is passing information to Voldemort," said Lily softly. "The Fidelius charm is a huge responsibility, Sirius, but we trust you...we know..."

"But..." Sirius's throat was dry, and suddenly his voice broke and he buried his head in his hands, shaking it. "I can't, Prongs...What if I told him?"

"You'd never tell him," said James quietly, the force of his trust radiating into his words.

Sirius stared up at his friend, dark eyes haunted and twisted. "What if he threatened Ani?"

"What if he's allied with Ani?" and James's voice was bitter, angry. "I don't want to believe that any of my friends could ever--_ever--_turn to Voldemort, but someone has. I trust you with my life, Padfoot, and even more I trust you with Lily's. And Harry's. _Please._"

"And you can't tell Ani," said Lily, pain pervading her voice. "You can't tell anyone."

Sirius looked away from them, and James realized that he looked suddenly old, that there were lines around his eyes and mouth...

"Let me think about it," said Sirius in a leaden, hollow voice like an old, old man's. "Give me a little time."

"We have to do it _soon_," said James, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

Something crossed Sirius's face that even James could not interpret. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "All right. All right."

Lily straightened, trying to stay businesslike. "Tomorrow night, then."

"Tomorrow?" hissed Sirius, disbelieving. "How can we possibly be ready by--"

"We will be," said James resolutely, scrubbing one hand through his thick hair, feeling so tired...so tired..."We'll have to be."

*

At seven o'clock, Sirius burst into the tiny house in Godric's Hollow, wild and disheveled. "You can't use me. You can't."

Lily and James were on their feet in an instant, Harry squalling unhappily at having any attention be diverted from him. "Pads, have you gone off your conk? Who else would we use?"

"Wormtail," gasped out Sirius. "It's perfect. It's the only thing...the only way...He hasn't got anyone, a lover or anyone, to be a weakness. Ani's mine, Prongs, you know that. I'm helpless if it comes to putting her in danger. If there's one thing Peter's good at, it's hiding...if you use Peter and then let him go into hiding...I'll tell Ani it's me." He ripped the words out of a throat thick with guilt and pain, trying to keep his voice expressionless. "You tell...tell Moony it's me, also. One of them has to be the spy, and it's the perfect way to feed out false information...Voldemort will come after me...you'll be safe. Please, Prongs, you've got to do this."

"Sirius, why--"

"I can't choose between you and Anika, James." Sirius hung his head, the effort of convincing them spent. "You know I can't. This is the safest way...for you, Lily, Harry..."

Anger asserted itself in James' features. "Sirius, you can't go jerking us around like this! We had a plan, you can't just change everything at the last--we have to start in two hours--"

"You've got to change it," snapped Sirius. "This is _too important_."

James swore, and smacked the wall with his fist. "Damnit, Sirius! Who the fuck gave you permission to mess everything up?"

"Me?" Sirius burst out. "Why? Because I don't want you to die? Fuck you, James!"

"I'll handle _that_, thank you," said Lily coldly. "Honestly, both of you. James, Sirius is trying to help. Sirius, James is trying not to kill you. So calm down. I understand your point, Padfoot--James, I think I agree with him...it is true, it's a better bluff--Sirius is the first person Voldemort will go after."

James swore again, but rather more quietly. "All right. Fuck. All right."

"Good," said Sirius, and suddenly sighed. "I guess Ani and I will have to go into hiding soon." 

James nodded.

"Then--" and Sirius suddenly lunged forward and hugged his friend tightly, feeling tears prick like white-hot needles at the backs of his eyes. He turned to Lily, still forcing back tears at the sight of her, small and strong, and the tiny baby who lay in her arms, glaring at him. He embraced her, rather awkwardly due to the way Harry came between them, and stroked his godson's head.

He looked back up at James. "Call Peter."

James nodded, mutely.

Sirius made a curt, final motion with his head and turned, yanking his jacket over his shoulders, to the door. He didn't look back as he climbed onto Rae, kicking the motorcycle into the dark, cold night, away from the comforting glow of the cottage and the warm baby-smell of its rooms.

* Somehow, Sirius managed to get the bike and himself home without crashing into something or falling off. It was torture to walk up the stairs toward the apartment, knowing what would meet him...

The door flew open, and he was faced with her glowing face, her swirl of raven hair...

"I ordered all the bridesmaid dresses," she said happily, kissing him on the cheek as he entered, rubbing her smooth cheek against his rough-shaven one. "Come and see."

_And what have you seen today, Anika? What secrets could have you learned, and told? Is it possible that you...that you...._

Sirius dragged himself into the kitchen. "I warn you, Ani, it's been a long day, so forgive me if I act like an absolute prick."

"Oh, it's all right. This'll cheer you up..." She was rummaging in a large packing box, pulling out wads of tissue paper, and finally pulled out a long, silky confection in light purple. "What do you think?"

He stared at it, taking in the bizarre, crisscrossing straps and flaring skirt. It looked weirdly asymmetrical. He couldn't picture it at his wedding, and certainly not on six threatening females. "I don't like it."

Her face fell. "But why not? It's the only color that suits all the bridesmaids, and anyway it isn't really your business."

"Look, it's my wedding too!"

"I know, but you said you didn't want to muck about with dresses and things, so I thought I'd..."

"Well, you could at least have asked me--"

"Why?! You don't know the first thing about dresses!"

"It's not just the dresses! First you sent out all the invitations without asking me--"

"I _did_ ask you! Anyway, Sirius, if I wanted any shit from you I'd just squeeze your head."

"That's so immature, and anyway you _didn't_ ask me! And you sent them to all those insufferable uncles of yours, and you know I wanted it to be a small wedding!"

"I got them back before anyone even _received_ them, didn't I? Sent out seventy retriever owls! Cost me a fortune!"

He made an exasperated motion with his hands. "That's not the point!"

Her eyes started to sting with anger and repressed tears. "Well, what is the point, then?"

"That you should stop trying to control everything! You act like _you're_ the only one making a giant commitment here--"

"Look, Sirius Black," and she sprung to her feet, breathing heavily, smoldering, "you told me you didn't want to get too involved in this 'arrangement stuff,' that's exactly what you said, so why shouldn't _I_ arrange things? It's not like you've been exactly panting to help me--when you haven't been a thousand miles away on _business_, you've been trying to get into my robes! It doesn't really help me plan things!" 

"I am _not_ some--some kind of--of absentee _sex_ _maniac_!" This was getting out of hand. All he'd said was that he didn't like the dresses--she was being ridiculous--"It's a job, do you want to starve in the streets?!" _Do you think I _like being_ away from you? Do you think it doesn't kill me inside?_ he almost said, but bit down hard on the words. 

"I support _myself!_"

"Anyway, you've not been exactly the loving fiancée when I _was _here, O Ice Queen Maxime--"

"This whole goddamn engagement was a _huge_ mistake!"

"Damn straight! I can't understand why the fuck I asked you in the first place!" He, too, was on his feet, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"I hate you!"

"Well, I hate you too!"

"Fine!" bawled Anika furiously, her face red and hot. She hurled one hand, trembling with rage, towards the door. "Just get out!"

"Fine!" Sirius yelled back, clenching his fists and nearly spitting with temper. "I'm going!"

"Good! Go on!"

"Manipulative bitch!"

"Self-absorbed pig!"

"Weepy, controlling--"

"Conceited, arrogant--"

"I'm leaving!"

"Then _go!_"

"I will!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"_Fine_!"

"And _don't come back!_"

"I'm _not going to!_"

Slam. Stomp stomp stomp. 

"Who needs you anyway?" Anika screamed at the closed door, hurling a vase in its general direction. The china splintered with a satisfying crash; one sharp piece nearly flew into her face. She shrieked something at the door, not even a word, just something that sounded obscene, and kicked a chair. 

Outside, in the hallway, he strode, seething, out into the cold October night and sat in front of the building, fumbling for a cigarette in his pockets. _In just a minute, she'll be running out here to apologize. And I'll say 'I just need to be alone, _thanks_,' very pointedly and get on my motorcycle and exit beautifully. And then I'll drop my cigarette at her feet so she'll know it's all her fault I've started again._

There wasn't even a pack of smokes in his pockets--only tissues and a couple of peppermints. She'd probably gone through all his clothes and trashed his tobacco--interfering bitch!--and he hadn't even had the sense to pick up his wallet when he stormed out. He swore under his breath and kicked a passing dog, taking malicious pleasure in hearing it yelp.

Upstairs, Anika planted herself on the sofa, having bolted the door firmly and torn all the photographs of him down from the fridge. _Any minute now, he'll come running up and bang on the door to apologize and I won't even answer. And then I'll sniff, very pointedly, so he can hear it and he'll know he made me cry_. 

She stared at the ceiling for several minutes, then rolled over and buried her face in the couch, fuming. _Ice queen, indeed,_ she thought fiercely, punching a pillow. _Asshole._

The clock ticked.

The door did not open.

She fiddled absently with the black opal ring on her finger and thought dark thoughts.

Outside, Sirius was getting very cold. He hopped awkwardly from foot to foot, longing to just get on Rae and ride away, but unwilling to miss the inevitable apology. His fingers itched for a smoke for the first time in weeks, but he quelled the urge, hand straying instead to the gold band around his ring finger. 

_ Soon enough, she'll come out._

_ Soon enough, he'll come up here._

  
  


At midnight, Anika opened the door to go downstairs at the exact same time that Sirius had been raising one hand to knock humbly for admission. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, then looked at the floor, then looked back up again. 

"Sorry."

There was a short pause. It was a good pause. 

"Come help me pick up these photographs?" asked Anika, smiling weakly.

"All right," he said, but made no movement towards the door. "Ani, I wanted to tell you why I was...you know..."

She regarded him silently.

He let out an explosive sigh, closing his eyes. "Voldemort's learned Lily and James's codenames."

Anika went chalk-white. "What? How?"

"Someone told him. Someone close to the Potters." He stared straight into her eyes, trying to force a reaction, but their stormy gray depths told him nothing. "Dumbledore told them to use the Fidelius charm."

_You're going to betray her the instant you say those next words. Don't say them, Sirius, please don't say them...please..._

"I'm their Secret-Keeper."

Her eyes went wide, and her face had gone from white to the sickening gray of illness. "You...? But Sirius--why did you--that's--"

"I know," he said expressionlessly, staring at the ground.

Anika swore, under her breath. 

There was another pause.

"It was very brave," she said, in a small voice.

"Thank you," and he kissed her softly, feeling something empty and weighty in his chest. _Is this a broken heart?_

"Come back in," she whispered, and she drew him inside, out of the cold of the hallway, closing the door.

*

Something brushed against her ear, rousing her into muted, languid awareness. It was Sirius; he was already pulling on a shirt, a pair of pants, despite the fact that the light was still grey and shadowy through the huge window. 

"Mmf," said Anika groggily, rolling over on the well-stuffed pillow and entangling her ankles in the sheet. "Sirius...wha..."

"I've got to go out, Ani."

She made a soft, sleepy sound and raised herself on one elbow. "Where? Why?"

"Oh, you know. Work. Don't worry about it, love; I ought to be back in an hour or two, don't fret." He finished buttoning up the shirt, kissing her affectionately atop the head as he did so. "But don't worry too much if I'm late, either. I might be delayed, you know."

"But it's so _early_." She held out her arms invitingly, smiling with the warm drowsiness of the just-awakened. "Come back to bed."

"Love to, but can't," said Sirius briskly, reaching for his boots. "I promise you, when I get back we can spend plenty of time there. _Very_ well-spent time."

"Promise?" she pouted, folding her arms across her chest.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said, spreading his arms winningly and smiling that wide, disarming smile that always melted her insides into a slow, squiggling pile of mush and blissful glop. "Love you always?"

"You too. No starlets now," said Anika, even in her sleepy state remembering the ritual. 

"You know they're extinct," Sirius returned promptly, yanking on his leather jacket with a creak and a jingle of studs. 

"And not that horrible--" but he had shut the door before she could get out the word "motorbike," and a moment later she heard the smooth purr of the engine as Sirius revved "that horrible motorbike" and kicked off into the morning sky.

"Damn you, Sirius, when you get back you'd better give me a proper kiss," said Anika into her pillow, and pulled the white comforter over her head.

*

Sirius jogged briskly up the apartment steps, his boots scuffing each stair and squeaking into the echoey stairwell. Peter's flat was all the way up on the sixth floor, but that wasn't so bad...it was a good workout, as Anika used to say.

He knocked on the door, yelling, "Wormy? Wormy, it's me, Padfoot!"

There was no answer. Somewhere down the hallway, there was the sound of a wireless being turned on.

"Wormtail?"

Still no response.

Feeling panic bite at the back of his mind, he thumped more emphatically on the door. "Peter! Open up!"

Silence.

_He's been attacked, _thought Sirius, his stomach twisting itself into knots of fear. _He's been attacked! He's been captured!_

Hands trembling, he pulled his wand from his jacket and aimed it at the keyhole. "_Alohomora!_"

Obligingly, the door clicked, and Sirius tried to force it again, but the chain bolt was drawn.

The _chain bolt?_

Now the fear was so bad it rushed into his ears and pounded in his brain...everything seemed so far away...he threw his whole body into the door and it burst open, the flimsy chain snapping under the onslaught. And then he was standing on the doorstep of Peter's little flat...

Everything was so tidy. The lights had all been turned out; the floors, he noticed, were bare...the carpets had been rolled back, tucked neatly against the walls. Dread quickening his steps, he fairly flew into the bedroom...the mattress had been stripped, and the closets--he ripped them open, jangling the coat hangers on their metal rack, reflecting his eyes, wide with horror and gradual realization, in the dark mirrors behind them--were emptied of clothes. There was nothing left in the apartment, realized Sirius, and the terrible truth slammed into his stomach.

_The bastard. He had this all planned out!_

The voices were gibbering, panicking in his head, drowning all the outside sensations as he raced out of the flat, throwing himself onto the motorbike as though by his own urgency he could beat it into a faster pace.

_I've got to get there before he does! Somehow I've got to get them out--I could still save them--somehow I could--_

He knew he was too late when he saw the thin, twisting column of smoke, rising into the grey sky. _No no no no! _screamed his mind, but there was nothing he could do...

He nearly crashed the motorcycle as he landed, not even seeing that Hagrid stood by the ruined fireplace, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle...not seeing anything except the ruins of stone and flaming wood that had once been the Potter's home. "No," he whispered, tripping over the motorcycle as he tumbled off, his heart thumping painfully against his ribcage..._they can't be dead, they can't be...oh God..._

There, under one of the tumbled walls...

A hand.

Nothing more, just one forlorn, still strong-looking hand, still with a gold band around one long finger, reaching out from beneath the pile of stone as though still clutching at life.

"_No_!" howled Sirius, and he threw himself at it, the grief and the horrible, horrible rage building up into an uncontainable storm within him. He seized at the hand in his own and pulled on it with all the strength in his lean, sinewy body, screaming words he could not even understand in a voice that was not his own, as though he could pull James out from beneath the rubble and he might somehow still be alive, somehow...

Strong hands grasped him firmly but gently about his middle, pulling him away from James's limp remains as he kicked and sobbed unintelligibly, like a child, and there was a rough, broken voice in his ear. "Come on now, Sirius, there's nothing yeh can do..."

"Get off me! Get off me!" bawled Sirius, striking impotently behind him. _This is my fault...this is all my fault...Peter, that stinking traitor...that coward..._And then he was sobbing, tears streaming down his face so fast he hardly even noticed they were there. "Get off....me..." And over there, by the wall...a tumble of auburn hair, a slump of green dress...Lily...

Hagrid turned him forcibly about, still holding his arms fast to his sides. There were tears in his beetle-black eyes, but he was containing them somehow...Hagrid, who sniffled over dead birds and weddings, even he could be strong in the face of this death, and Sirius who laughed at misfortune and suffering and death was nothing better than an infant..."Get ahold of yerself, Sirius!"

"No!" sobbed Sirius, fists thudding uselessly over Hagrid's chest and shoulders, feet swinging a foot from the ground. "Get off me! Get off--"

"Sirius!" roared Hagrid, shaking him very sharply this time. "Enough!"

Startled into silence by the roughness of the giant's movements, Sirius dropped his hands to his sides.

"There, then," and Hagrid's voice dropped to rough gentleness. Sirius felt his feet touch the ground, and a moment later Hagrid had enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug and Sirius, still childlike, was crying into the broad chest--a puddle of tears and snot the same way he had been on the day his mother had died...

"I know, Sirius, I know," said Hagrid softly, patting his back.

"James," whispered Sirius, feeling a dull ache begin to pound in the back of his mind. "James is dead...and Lily...and Harry..."

"Not Harry," said Hagrid, and for the first time there was almost a smile in the rough voice. "Harry's alive, Sirius."

Sirius's eyes widened and he pulled away from Hagrid, staring at him with a rush of hope in his heart. "Harry's still alive?"

"Not only alive, but he's a hero," said Hagrid with gruff pride. "And You-Know-Who...he couldn't kill tha' little boy. He tried, but he couldn' do it." He shook his enormous, shaggy head in wonder. "And now he's gone."

"He's _gone_?" It was too much, it was all too much...

Hagrid nodded, still mystified. "I don' know how it happened...nobody does...but somehow, when he tried ter kill Harry, his...power broke somehow. He's gone, Sirius...and look at young Harry's forehead..."

He released Sirius and bent over the wall, picking up the small, swaddled bundle and handing it to its godfather.

Hands shaking, Sirius pulled back the fabric. Harry, with his shock of black hair so like his father's, his eyes, green and wide, so like his mothers...it almost broke Sirius, almost sent him to his knees, but he forced himself to stay upright.

Across the baby's forehead, right where the soft, thick hair fell, was a great long slash, bleeding and scorched around the edges. Sirius ran a finger over Harry's soft, snub nose; the child giggled and snatched at his godfather's hand, crying "Pazzie...Pazzie..."

"You've got to let me take care of him," said Sirius suddenly, feeling an overwhelming love for this child that was almost his own. "You've got to let me. I'm his godfather, Hagrid, Ani and I will raise him like our own..." _Ani will raise him. I've got to take care of Peter. I'll kill him. And then I'll live with the consequences, as long as I can see him dead._

Hagrid was obviously tempted, but he reached over Sirius's hands and pulled Harry gently away from him, ignoring the child's indignant mewling and squirming at being separated from his friend. "I would, Sirius, yeh know I would...You an' Ani would be the best parents young Harry could ever 'ave. But Dumbledore...'The boy's to go to his uncle and aunt,' 'e says. Muggles, they are." Hagrid's eyes betrayed the disbelief he felt, but his utter trust in Dumbledore was obvious from the tone of his voice. "I don' know, Sirius, but I'd trust Dumbledore with me life. He's got ter have a reason ter do things this way. I'm to take Harry to Dumbledore straight off."

"But--you can't give him to _Muggles_!"

Hagrid sighed. "I know, Sirius, but what's to be done? Dumbledore's orders..."

"Hagrid--"

"I'm not goin' ter argue with yeh, Sirius. Dumbledore knows what 'e's doing. It's not my place to second-guess 'im."

"Yes," said Sirius expressionlessly, his stomach dropping in defeat. After he killed Peter, they'd never let him see Harry again...this was his last chance...

He leaned over and kissed his godson on the forehead, right above the gash. "You tell him I loved him, when he gets older," whispered Sirius, his voice almost cracking with despair. "You tell him I would have been a good godfather."

"What are you on about, Sirius?" asked Hagrid, perplexed.

"Promise me you'll tell him!" It was so stupid, so sentimental...but Harry had to know...

"Aye, I'll tell him if yeh like..."

Sirius stared up at him, and Hagrid nearly fell back at the hate in the normally laughing purple-black eyes. "And take my motorcycle to get Harry to Dumbledore...you'll take good care of her--it--won't you? I won't be needing it anymore, I don't think..." Hagrid started to protest, but Sirius silenced him with a glance. "Just..._take _it."

"Aye, I'll do that," said Hagrid in surprise. "Where're yeh going?"

"I have business to take care of," said Sirius, very softly. James might have recognized the look in his eyes, could he see it; it was the look he had worn on the night of the Willow incident, the dangerous blankness, the total lack of either mirth or sadness...

He turned to gaze at Harry. The boy was regarding him with eyes that were almost frightened, and "Pazzie?" faltered Harry, shrinking back into his swaddling clothes.

"So long, Spots," whispered Sirius, trying to smile, the effort making his head and jaw hurt. He touched his godson's head, almost as though blessing him, and Harry fell silent, the long-eyelashes resting softly on the fat baby-cheek. "You're going to look just like your father, you know."

"Pazzie," said Harry drowsily. "Pazzie doggie snuffle nose."

And then Sirius whirled and ran, pounding down the street at an impossibly fast pace..

"Good doggie," said Harry sleepily, waving at the night sky, right where Canis Major twinkled above his head. "_Good _doggie."

"Aye, good doggie," said Hagrid gently, hoisting Harry onto his shoulder. 

*

Ani stared out her window, one hand resting on the gentle swell of her stomach. Sirius had told her that morning that he'd be going out to check on something work-related, but that had been four hours ago...she was starting to worry...maybe something was wrong. But he'd told her not to worry if he was late...

_I should get dressed, _she thought without much conviction, rubbing her hand absently over the smooth skin of her belly. _It's real morning now._ But then again, it was Saturday, and maybe he would get back and bring her breakfast in bed...

The fire that was always lit in the grate flashed abruptly yellow--Dumbledore's color.

Ani sat up, the covers dropping off her body, and then, abruptly embarrassed, yanked them back up. "Ophelia here."

"Ophelia?" Dumbledore's voice, sounded both sharp and tired. "There's been an attack in Muggle London...Iago's dead. So are Romeo and Juliet."

The color drained from her face...it couldn't be true, there had to be a misunderstanding...she was automatically reaching for the clothes that always lay draped over the chair near the bed and tugging them on. "What...who..."

"I can't talk," said Dumbledore, and she realized that he even sounded sad. "You've got to get down there, _now_."

"I'm on it," said Anika grimly, hoping she wouldn't splinch herself in the process. _They're wrong, I know they are, there's been a mistake_...Lily and James couldn't be dead, they just couldn't be.

Sirius was their secret-keeper, and he'd never have let that happen.

*

Anika Apparated onto a scene of utter chaos. Blood stained the streets; people were screaming; the bodies of what seemed like hundreds of people lay scattered over the cobblestones, some of them moving slightly, others completely still. 

She felt the deceptively gentle eddy of the River around her ankles. There was so much death here, so much...

_"I don't believe people ever really die," said Lily softly, stroking Harry's downy head. "Anyway I don't think I shall ever die; can you imagine how furious James would be with me? I know _I _would absolutely kill him if _he_ went and died without telling me."_

_ "I'll try to let you know," said James, and he laughed, his eyes sparkling like stars as he looked at her, and the love he felt for her almost palpable in the air..._

She felt the bile rising in her throat as she knelt beside the nearest corpse.

It was just a girl, no more than seventeen, pretty...only a Muggle, thought Anika in horror, innocent...this hadn't been her fault...she was so blameless, and she was dead, and her blue eyes still stared blankly at the sky, cruelly identical in shade. 

A sharp pain clogged her throat as she closed the sunny eyes, dragging her gaze upward to see who could have been responsible for so much death, so much torment.

Only about ten feet away from her, the street was cracked right through, a deep chasm breaking it straight in half, a chasm that ran clear down to the sewers. There were bright splashes of blood all around it, so bright they could hardly be real. And there, standing over the abyss with wand in one crimson-stained hand, staring into its depths with inscrutable eyes...

Sirius.

"_No_," whispered Anika, unable to believe what her eyes told her, refusing to believe it. And then her voice rose into a scream, denying the inevitable _yes_ as he looked up and those hollow black eyes met her own--"No! _Noooo!_"

There was something helpless in those eyes, beyond the simple matte-blank skeletal emptiness...something that pleaded with her, for a moment almost caught her. It triggered a sudden spasm of nausea; Anika screamed, tearing the black-opal ring from her finger so hard that it ripped a long gash in the skin and flinging it at the man she thought she loved, the one she'd thought had loved her. _He was just using me...he...it was all a lie..._

His eyes broke from hers, moving to the band that rolled to his feet and spun, with a silvery tinkle, into the chasm before his feet. And then he looked back up--a sudden, final movement of the head and spine, the corners of his mouth twitching convulsively. And he started to laugh, laugh until he was breathing in pained, ragged gasps and Anika could only hear the sound she'd used to love so much twisted and perverted, the smell of blood...

She threw herself at him, screaming--but there was a whoosh of air and someone Apparated in behind her, grabbing her arms and twisting them behind her. A worried voice--"That can't be young Donelan?"--and in her state she did not even recognize Cornelius Fudge's voice, the young incompetent from the Department of Magical Catastrophes. Her eyes were still swimming on Sirius, and then there were six armed men descending on him--and he was still laughing, his head thrown back, throat open to the sky.

"Take her," came Fudge's voice, and suddenly it was sharp and businesslike, and "_Nooo_!" screamed Anika, but there was a rush of wind in her ears and the scene dissolved.

*

The man sat in the corner of his cell, staring at the wall. Now and again, he started to laugh, a sound so utterly hopeless and grieving that it almost sounded like a howl.

In another cell, a woman shuddered, her whole body racked with sobs, her breath ragged and uneven. "Sirius," she whispered into the stone floor, and then she curled herself into a ball, nestling her head against her knees as the pain shot through her again.

The sun was setting on Azkaban; bloody fingers of light shot over the reddened sea, casting dark, blue-black shadows over the spiked walls and courtyards. 

*

Remus stood in front of the desk, the hollows under his eyes more pronounced than ever before, but he held himself as tall as he could. 

The official pulled a wand, tapped the quill lying on the desk, and muttered, "_Transcripio_." The stylus sprang to attention, skating across the paper. Upside-down, Remus could read: "_Interrogation of Remus Lupin, November 3, 1981._"

The official looked down at the papers spread in front of him, then up at Remus. "State your full name and occupation for the record."

"Remus John Lupin," said Remus expressionlessly. "Researcher and translator." The quill sketched furious lines across the parchment.

"Age?"

"Twenty-one."

The officer regarded him in obvious disbelief--but the Veritas spell held him, and despite how much older he looked, Remus could not be lying. "Place of residence?"

"Hogwarts castle, east wing."

"And you were a...friend...of Sirius Black and Anika Donelan?"

"Yes. I thought I was."

"I see." The man peered back down at his papers, and then suddenly shook his head, running his hands through his light hair, and let out a breath of wondering air. "Do you believe that Donelan and Black were working together against the Ministry and Dumbledore's alliance?"

"I find it...difficult...to accept, sir."

"But you do agree that Black was a spy for...You-Know-Who?"

The Veritas potion forced the answer past lips that were suddenly dry. "I...I think I have to."

"And you agree that Donelan and Black were quite inseparable? Real...soulmates?" The man chuckled darkly.

"Yes," whispered Remus. _No....Ani couldn't have been..._ "But surely--there's no evidence that she--"

"Nothing but the evidence of her obvious connection to Black, evidence that cannot be ignored....They were engaged?"

"Yes."

"And living together?"

"Yes."

"But did she know of the Fidelius charm being performed?"

"We had agreed not to tell her. We knew there was someone tracing our movements, especially Lily's, and James's. Sirius flatly refused to believe that Anika was the spy..."

The officer pounced. "So he defended her?"

"Yes. He was all for telling her. It was Peter who convinced him not to let anyone know outside the five of us and Dumbledore..." 

"Peter Pettigrew? The wizard Black killed?"

"Yes," confirmed Remus bleakly. Thinking about Peter, his kind round face and wide, innocent blue eyes, was painful.

"Do you believe she knew?"

"I believe Sirius would have told her. But I suppose I don't know Sirius as well as I...thought I did."

"I see," said the official again. He checked his notes. "You are a...a werewolf, Mr. Lupin?" and all of a sudden his voice was very cold, as though even under the influence of the Veritas potion Remus's word could not be trusted.

"Yes."

"So. So." The official glowered at him, and Remus found that he could not meet his gaze. "Finite Incantatem."

Remus let out a breath of relief as the Veritas effects wore off, and managed, "What's--what's going to happen to Ani?"

"A month in Azkaban, no more, for questioning. As an accomplice, you understand. But there's very little evidence against her, so we probably won't be holding her for long."

"Can you--could you possibly tell me when she's released?"

The officer glowered at him. "We have a confidentiality policy on prisoner release. I'm sure you can appreciate why."

"Of course," said Remus hoarsely.

The man made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "You may go, Mr. Lupin."

But Remus was already gone, walking blindly out of the dark station into the night, ramming past celebrating wizards on the street, numb; something had ended, he realized, something that never really had a chance to begin.


	2. Default Chapter Title

help! somehow, this got deleted from the archives, and i don't know how and i'm afraid i might have forgotten to log out of my account or something...that's not cool...and i *know* none of you missed it at all, but...ack! ack ack ack! this is the only thing i've found that was changed, though...o_O weird. aliens? 

haha, this must be the crappiest chapter title yet! i'm soooooo proud of myself. X_X

i'm having trouble thinking up appropriate bribes for all of you wonderful reviewers, but you really, really, really do make my day. seriously, you improve my mood and me temperament and....just review, o please do. (that rhymed! heh...) person with too many cats, you can put your story up now...*grin*

again, huge huge thanks (and a nice, healthy, fat-free nutrigrain bar) to cassandra claire, who beta-read this for me and made it oh so much better. and i have nothing to say except it's late and i'm tired. yes!

oh yeah: (*BWAMP BWAMP BWAMP* SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT *BWAMP BWAMP BWAMP*) i set up a webpage! kinda sorta. i don't know any html, but i put up some of my art...if you want to see it, for whatever bizarre reason. some of it's pretty entertaining. [http://www.geocities.com/ravenkei.][1] sign the guestbook! goooood! and there will be illustrations for this here story up soon, if you really wanna wait around for them. Penumbri said she might host them for me! ent she nice? her page is [http://virtue.nu/subset][2] and it is soooo pretty. pretty pretty pretty. go there now.

* * *

Bryter Layter: Part VII

Marches On

* * *

The candle flickered in its holder, dripping wax onto the scratched surface of the desk. Anika scribbled furiously on her parchment, stifling a yawn as she watched the spiders in their jar doing an impromptu ballet. _Nothing_, she thought tiredly, _nothing different._

Moony Blues, who was sleeping on top of a stack of papers, sneezed and waved her paws at invisible insects.

Anika hoped Dumbledore would owl her soon. The Ministry wouldn't let her use non-arachnid test subjects, but there was no way she could properly research the resistant gene without a control subject. 

"_Finite Incantatem_," she snapped at the spiders, and they promptly stopped dancing and collapsed, thin legs waving helplessly in the air.

She sucked thoughtfully on her quill, the ink-stained fingers of one hand drumming rhythmically against the desk as she read over the first draft of the second paragraph of her application.

_...However, it has been observed that the occasional wizard, less than one in ten thousand, can completely resist the effects of the curse. The purpose of my work research is to isolate the gene and/or characteristic that permits such resistance create a sort of "vaccine" for the Imperius curse from genetic extractions isolated from these few wizards. Could such an extract be created, the threat of the curse would be entirely annulled. Unfortunately, difficulty lies in locating these rare mutated genes; without a human test subject, it seems unlikely that the research can continue any further. Professor Albus Dumbledore . . . _

_ Now what? "Professor Albus Dumbledore apparently has one of these genes, may I please drag him to my underground lair, sample his blood, inject him with strange substances, and put one of the Unforgivable Curses on him?_" She groaned aloud, banging her head against the desk. _I'm nineteen years old! I should be outside right now, getting fit and tanned and beautiful. The streets should be strewn with the bodies of men shooting themselves for my sake. I should _not_ be cursing spiders in a basement._

There came a tapping at the door. "Come in," she called, laying the quill down.

"Professor Donelan?" The door creaked open, torchlight from the hallways flooding into her dark workroom. 

_And another thing: no one should be calling me "Professor," _she thought darkly. _People should be calling me 'babe' and 'sweetheart', or at _least_ 'Ani'_. "Yes, Rinako?"

"This just came for you . . . d'you want to read it now?"

"Yes, of course," Anika said quickly, drawing herself up and reaching for the letter that her co-worker held. "Thanks."

"No problem. Say, you want something to drink? Dr. Watson went out for butterbeer for everyone, and there's a giant crate upstairs. Come up for a bit? It'd be good for you to get some fresh air."

Anika stretched hugely, yawning and feeling the bones pop in her shoulders and spine. "Yeah, I think I will. Hang on, let me read this; I'll be up in a couple minutes."

"All right." Rinako retreated, closing the door behind her.

It wasn't as though her months at the Observatory had been unhappy ones. The rent was cheap, the lab was serviceable, and if it was a bit dark, at least there was an up-to-date air circulation spell. Still, she sometimes wished she'd taken up some line of work that involved tropical climes, adventure, excitement, and perhaps a daily jog.

_You didn't _have_ to take this job, you know,_ she reminded herself, watching one spider scuttle up the side of its jar and then fall back into the bottom of it. _You wanted to make a difference._

_ I didn't want to make a difference, I wanted to run away_. After she and Sirius had...stumbled over one another, after Remus had left, she'd nearly broken down. It was my fault, she'd told herself. It was my fault, for trying to make friends too fast, trying to be too much to too many people. And so she'd simply stopped talking to all of them, all her Gryffindor friends.

Well, she could say "simply" now, but it had never been simple. Advanced Arithmancy had been a nightmare--they tried to talk to her, she barely replied, she left feeling like the world's biggest ungrateful failure and cried herself to sleep.

At graduation, she hadn't even said goodbye to them. She'd known she might never see any of them ever again, and she'd just...left. 

She regretted it now. Often she longed to hear Sirius's vibrant laugh, to see again the way Remus's eyes seemed slanted in a certain light, to see Peter grin shyly and blush bright red the way he did when anyone complimented him--to watch James and Lily, heads bent close together, poring over some piece of unimportant piece of parchment and sneaking glances at one another when each thought the other wasn't looking.

Graduation hadn't been a happy day, in any event. Voldemort's constant presence, the guard of armed wizards who actually followed them to the reception to protect them from Death Eater terrorists, the conspicuous absence of at least three professors killed in battle against Voldemort...all had made the departure nothing but gloomy. And then, hardly a week later, Colleen Donelan put a bullet through her head in a dirty motel room near Leeds. She'd always had a flair for dramatics; why use a simple Avada Kedavra when one could harness the pure violent beauty of a gunshot?

Anika hadn't even gone to the funeral. She'd packed her things, caught a ferry to Shannon, and taken up work as a waitress on Achill Island, up County Mayo way. And then she'd felt the need to do something big, to help accomplish something in the world.

_So I took up spider-cursing_, she thought with dark humor.

Anika shook herself. The past was unimportant now; this letter could be the key to her future.

Anika slid a fingernail into the slot of the envelope and pulled out the paper inside.

  
  


_Anika M. Donelan_

_Achill Observatory_

_Co. Galway, Ireland_

  
  


_Dear Anika,_

_ I was greatly intrigued by your letter. The idea that a genetic abnormality might be the basis for resistance to the Imperius curse is a very interesting one, and though I would love to help you research it further, business ties me to the grey shores of England. However, should you have the time and the inclination to travel back to Hogwarts, I have a proposal for you._

_ Voldemort's presence has become an increasingly threatening one, and your work might be an important breakthrough in resisting him. Independently of the Ministry, an alliance has been formed which is dedicated to frustrating Voldemort's actions. Would you be willing to align yourself with us? It is a risky business; certainly, our league is not for the faint of heart. However, I do not doubt you would be up for the task. Here, you could perform your research with funding drawn directly from Hogwarts's expenses, and you would certainly have no lack of test subjects. _

_ Will you join us?_

_ Awaiting your answer as soon as possible._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Albus Dumbledore_

  
  


Anika stared at the letter, amazed. An alliance, forming at Hogwarts? And Dumbledore wanted _her_ to join? Certainly it appeared so . . . and funding drawn directly from Hogwarts's bulging vaults . . . no more waitressing at the local wizarding pub . . . and best of all, no more spiders in dark basements. 

She had to clamp down hard on herself to keep from leaping for joy as she scribbled a quick note on a spare piece of parchment, heart singing. 

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_ I'll be there as soon as possible. My lab is very small, and it won't take me much time to get packed. _

_ Thank you so much._

_ Anika Donelan_

  
  


*

Anika felt an amazing sense of deja vu as she stepped off the train at the Hogsmeade station; this time, however, there was no Hagrid to greet her, to herd her off into a horseless carriage with all her friends. All_ my friends_? she thought with dark humor. _I had seven, tops. And that was before..._

She walked briskly down the platform, Moony's cage slung over one shoulder and her trunk floating obediently behind her. Ahead of her, she could see the long line of broomsticks for rent--_probably horribly expensive_, she thought dismally, checking one price tag and flinching. There was only one model she could afford--a ratty old '69 Kestrel, shedding twigs like rain. With an inward shudder of apprehension, she gave her thirteen Sickles to the grinning little man behind the desk and pulled the broom off the rack, tethering her magically lightened trunk to the back of it and quickly pushing off. It gave a little rumbling moan of mechanical failure, like a dog unsuccessfully trying to mate with a goat, and nearly threw Anika off as it creaked into the air.

_This won't be fun_, thought Anika sadly, trying to straighten the broom out and failing miserably. She managed to touch down in one piece on the Hogwarts grounds, but the broom had a faulty braking charm which sent her pitching head over heels onto the lawn, her trunk skidding behind her. Cursing furiously, she scrambled to her feet, trying unsuccessfully to pick up the pieces of her lost dignity.

"Can I help you?" asked a calm, civil voice from behind her.

"No, thank you," said Anika as composedly as she could, fuming at the broom. "I'm f--"

She turned around, and nearly fainted.

"_Sirius?!_"

* Sirius had been sitting under a tree, staring at the burning pattern of sky through the leaves and thinking about nothing in particular, when he heard the broom. It was truly a horrible specimen: sounded like a '69 Kestrel to his experienced ear, and a damaged one at that. He crossed the grounds quickly; Dumbledore had told him to expect a visitor, a research scientist from Ireland here to join the Alliance, codename Ophelia. He'd been told to greet her.

As soon as he saw the broom's angle of descent, he broke into a jog. From the creaking noises, it sounded like the braking charm might be malfunctioning, and he wanted to be sure no one was hurt. Sure enough, when he was less than fifty feet away, the broom screeched to a halt in midair, and a black-robed figure hurtled over the front of it, slamming into the ground. She picked herself up quickly, muttering dire things, and turned her back to Sirius, apparently preoccupied.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Can I help you?"

Her shoulders stiffened--she obviously hadn't seen Sirius. "No, thank you, I'm f--" 

She turned around, smoothing down her robes, and suddenly froze. His mouth dropped open, his brain instantly recognizing those wide gray eyes, that glowingly white skin. "_Sirius?!_" she managed, her whole body freezing up.

Sirius choked. "A--Ani?!" She looked so much older, so much more mature--could a year, two years, have made that much difference? He could only stare, taking her in as she, too, took him in: eyes black, twisted with violet--face full and handsome as ever, still tall and wiry, and mouth open in disbelief--

"Dumbledore didn't--" they both gasped out at the same time, staring at each other as though they could devour one another with their eyes alone. And then they both stopped, and before Anika knew what she was doing she had thrown herself onto him and was hugging him tightly, laughing into his shoulder and pounding his back excitedly. "You look so _good_!"

"You do too!" he fairly screamed into her hair, pressing his hands against her back, inhaling her scent like a drowning man gasping for oxygen. "Ani, you--"

"I _know_ I didn't talk to you all through seventh year," she said seriously, pulling away from him, "and I'm sorry--but it's so amazing to see you, and I wish someone had _told_ me, and I hope you don't think I didn't want to be friends with you, I did, but things were so strange and confusing. Can't we be friends now?"

"I don't see why not," said Sirius, grinning madly. "Oh, Ani, I can't believe it's _you_!" They were still clutching one another, and then Sirius was twirling his friend around in the air, her robes flying out behind her as she threw her head back and laughed and laughed.

*

Dumbledore had given Anika her own little tower workroom in the West tower, so different from the musty basement she'd been renting at the Observatory. First of all, it was always filled with sunlight from the enormous windows that took up most of the walls; secondly, it was so...comfortable-looking. There was a soft, cushiony bed in one corner, long white curtains draping the windows, an iridescent silver carpet, inches deep, on the floor. The only sign that it was a workroom at all was the desk in the corner, which had already been stocked with plenty of parchment, ink and quills. There was even a little private bathroom, with a lovely china bath at least eight feet long taking up one wall.

She surveyed it all, hands on hips, with great pleasure. Moony had already found herself a snoozing spot on the windowseat and was making admirable use of it, soaking up the sunlight like a feline sponge. Anika had changed out of her traveling robes as well, into a comfortable gray tank top and her favorite ripped jeans. It was hot, even for July, and under normal circumstances she would have put on shorts, but the fact was that she hadn't shaved her legs in at least a week, and with Sirius around...well..._My vanity is just as hyperactive as it ever was_, she thought with some relief. _Maybe two years of spider-cursing hasn't permanently damaged me after all._

She pulled open her trunk, pulled out one of her records, and tapped it surreptitiously with her wand, her shoulders relaxing as the music flowed into the room, the sweet chime of the guitar, simple and pure, and the low, husky voice. She sang quietly along:

  
  


_Know that I love you_

_Know that I care_

_Know that I see you_

_Know I'm not there_

  
  


There was a knock on the door, and she turned, calling, "Come in!"

_This_ door, she noted with even greater delight, didn't even squeak on its hinges as it opened and Sirius poked his shaggy black head inside. "The rest of your things came. I've lugged them all the way up the stairs--the least you could do is help me get them inside."

"But I'm only a girl," said Anika helplessly, fluttering her eyelashes. "You know, the weaker sex, the Caesar-salad-eating gender. That's a job for a big strong man."

Sirius glared at her ineffectually. "Funny, I could have sworn that a second ago, when we went down to the dining hall, you were bolting down roast chicken like there was no tomorrow."

"I'm a _growing _girl," said Anika self-righteously. "And I happen to like chicken." She pointed imperiously at the door. "Go on, boy, fetch me my robes."

"Yes, _ma'am_," said Sirius teasingly, bowing his way out the door and re-entering within a moment with a huge trunk dragging behind him. He dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, dusting his hands off. "Damn! What's _in_ there? Peter?"

"Peter," said Anika in solemn tones, "sleeping in my trunk after an enormous breakfast of drugged kippers and sausage. I was going to kidnap him and perform horribly invasive medical experiments on him, but you've foiled me. Curses. Meddling kid." She hauled the trunk to the armoire in the corner and pulled it open, unpacking piles of clothing onto the bed.

Sirius sidled up behind her, peering over her shoulder. "Dumbledore told me to tell you that he's briefing you in an hour, so be sure to come down to his office."

"I will," promised Anika, folding up a set of silver dress robes over one arm. "Bye, then."

Sirius didn't leave. "Okay."

"Right." She placed the newly-folded robes on the closet shelf, ignoring the fact that he hadn't moved.

"So," said Sirius, a trace of desperation in his voice, "what have you been doing with yourself?"

"Researching," said Anika, reaching for another article of clothing.

"Researching _what_?" pressed Sirius, seating himself on her bed.

"Curses," said Anika ominously. "I'm getting very good at them."

"I see," said Sirius, edging out of her reach. "Well, I'll be leaving you alone, then."

"You do that," said Anika, staggering across the room under the weight of a stack of data transcriptions.

He eased out of the room and down the stairs, wondering what Remus would do when he found out who their new ally was.

*

Anika bounded down the marble staircases, positively whistling. She _loved_ this place, the smell of ink and strange potion ingredients, the delicious squeak of the clean stone under her feet, the sounds of Peeves bouncing about upstairs and throwing things. Oh, it was so wonderful, so thrilling and beautiful and lucky to be--

She slammed into someone, said "_Oof!_" and nearly twisted an ankle as she slipped down the stairs.

"Can't you watch it?" asked a voice irritably.

"Sorry," Anika said, embarrassed. She looked up, and found herself staring at a sallow, dark-haired boy her own age, who was glaring at her, obviously rather embarrassed himself. She almost choked. "_Snape_?"

"Donelan?" Snape stared at her, the embarrassed look wiping itself from his face and being replaced with his usual contemptuous sneer. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I," said Anika with dignity, "was invited. I can't _imagine_ what you're doing here."

"None of your business," snapped Snape, pushing past her.

"I don't care anyway!" she yelled after him. _Stupid git, trying to get me to feel inferior to him. How I hate him._

Her good mood spoiled, she trudged the rest of the way down the stairs towards Dumbledore's office.

The tall, blue-robed figure standing by the wall straightened at her approach, long white hair swinging out behind him as he smiled at her. "Hello, Anika! May I simply say, you look far too lovely for a research scientist. One would expect you to have as many wrinkles as I do, horn-rimmed glasses, and a perpetual smirk..."

"Too kind, Headmaster..." Anika smiled, bobbing a curtsey.

Dumbledore waved her address aside. "Pish! I won't have you calling me headmaster; you're not a first-year. You may call me Albus, and I shall call you Anika. Far simpler that way. Come along, then...we usually meet downstairs..."

_Not more basements! _Anika groaned inwardly, following the headmaster down the hall.

After a few metres, they reached a large tapestry hanging on the wall. Anika had seen it before: it was of an beautiful, aristocratic-looking young woman herding a flock of rather cross-looking ducks. Now, however, the woman was sitting on a rock at the edge of the tapestry, eating a box of what looked suspiciously like toffee. The ducks milled about her feet, quacking stupidly at random blades of grass.

"Eliza!" said Dumbledore smartly, tapping the weaving with one hand. 

The woman looked up, blinking owlishly at them. "Paffob?" 

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Sorry?"

"Asheb, paffob! Yucam gebbim wivouba paffob."

"Eliza," said Dumbledore severely, "you know you shouldn't be eating all that sticky stuff, at your age. It does horrible things to the teeth."

The girl stuck a pale finger into her mouth, rooting around to erase all trace of the toffee, then grinned stickily at both of them, tilted her delicate head, and said shrilly, "'Ow about a password, then, 'ey? Not that I don' trust yer or nuffink, but yerd better 'ave a password or I'll call Dumbledore, I will, ey? _Aaaaow! _D'yer mind not tuggin' on me bloody threads?!" This last was directed at Anika, who had been poking curiously at the tapestry, but quickly withdrew her hand.

"Eliza, dear, I _am_ Dumbledore," said Dumbledore with infinite patience. "And the password is 'Hinkypunk.'"

"Cor! _You're_ Dumbledore hisself? I don't bloomin' Adam and Eve it!" The girl peered closer at him. "Gorblimey, so you are; it's these blasted fibers, I cain't see nuffink. All right, in yer get, then. And mind you don't hit your head!" She cackled gleefully as the tapestry rolled itself up, revealing four lines sketched into the stone wall in the outline of a door. Dumbledore pushed it; a blue mist formed for a moment around his fingers, tracing the outline of his hand, and then it faded and the door swung open.

Anika's first impression was of a painting. Everything was just so perfectly arranged--the round wooden table in the centre of the room, the black-and-white tiles geometrically arranged around the floor, the tall pillars supporting the ceiling, the portraits of the four Founders that hung round the walls. It appeared to be empty; it was very dark, except for the flickering torches in brackets around the walls.

"Come now, Anika!" Dumbledore was already walking briskly down through the room, towards the table. Anika followed, apprehensive.

Dumbledore courteously pulled out a chair for her, bowing elaborately, and then took a seat across the table, laying his wand out on the table in front of him. Anika quickly mimicked him; her wand nearly rolled off the side of the table and she had to snatch at it, feeling stupid and incompetent. Dumbledore placed the tips of his fingers together, elbows resting comfortably on the desk.

"Anika, welcome to the Circle."

Something tingled down Anika's spine at the words.

"We are an alliance pledged to the defeat of Voldemort, pledged to keep him from accomplishing his hideous goal. We know things that no one else knows about his plans, about his movements, his servants, his ultimate intents. And that is why we _must stop him_."

Dumbledore rose to his feet, pointed his wand at the center of the table, and muttered something. There was a brief flash of light, and then something sprang into view, hovering in midair and revolving slowly. It was a flickering image of two flat stones--an illusion, Anika reminded herself, albeit a very skillful one. He began to pace slowly back and forth, his robes swirling about his feet.

"These are called the Scyldinga Runes, Anika. Have you heard of them?"

She nodded, vaguely remembering something Professor Kenaz had mentioned during Ancient Runes. "Prophecies, weren't they? I thought they were destroyed..."

"They were," said Dumbledore grimly. "The Circle destroyed them. Our illusions are the only remaining records. Voldemort would do anything to get his hands on these."

"Why?" asked Anika, bewildered.

"Because they will tell him how to gain infinite power--not only over this world, but over every world that exists." In the light that flickered from the walls, Dumbledore looked very old, and very tired. Anika had to look away, almost feeling as though she were intruding on something private. "Voldemort's true nature is far from human. His mother was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, as you may have guessed. His immense power as a young boy made him an excellent vessel for powers far older than mankind...a subject I imagine you know much about, with your mother."

"I only know--Irish--prehistory, sir."

"Well, Ireland is really where it all began, isn't it? You know, then, that the balance of the worlds is governed by four powers--fire, air, earth and water?"

Anika nodded, relieved to finally feel that she knew what she was doing. "Yessir" Her mother had told her long ago of the four oldest de Danaan cities--Gorias, of fire, in the east; Finias, of air, in the south; Murias, of water, in the west; and Falias, of earth, in the north.

"So, then. Voldemort--once known as Tom Riddle--was a very ambitious, and very talented, man. He hated muggles with a passion--his father, a muggle, was perhaps a less-than-admirable specimen of humanity--and so he did something very foolish: he performed an ancient ritual at the old site of Gorias, opening his body to one of the four cardinal spirits. Fire, in fact. Fickle, but very, very powerful. Precisely what Riddle wanted."

Anika knew enough about the elementals to feel her skin turn to ice at the story. So that was why Voldemort was so powerful--he was only human in body, only human in the faintest remnants of his soul, if indeed he had any soul left. 

"Once he did this, he had to take on not only his own ambitions, but those of the Elemental as well. And as all fire strives for things to feed on, so too does Voldemort. If he could, he would open every worldgate that exists on Earth, letting in all the chaos and horror of the other dimensions, controlling them all. 

"But he cannot. There are three other Elemental vessels, scattered over the world, and while they live Voldemort cannot possibly open these gates--the spell to open them requires the sacrificial blood of the other Vessels, and the key to finding those vessels lies in these runes--prophecies, giving their identities, and the ways to find and destroy them. Do you remember--I suppose you would have been thirteen or fourteen--there was a case of a suicide cult who murdered twenty Irish children?"

Anika nodded. She remembered it with a horrible chill; one of the young girls found vivisected on the stones at Dun Dubh had been an old babysitting client.

"That cult was called the Death Eaters, and they were followers of Voldemort before his great rise. Each of those children had great potential in one of the four elements, and Voldemort figured that slaying enough of them would equal slaying one real elemental. He only managed to open one gate, though, and the power it took killed all the cultists in an instant." Anika shuddered, but Dumbledore continued. "You surely understand now. That is why we must decipher the symbols before Voldemort does, so that we can awaken that power in the Vessels before they are sacrificed on the stones at Falias, opening the world to the ultimate destruction..." There was a moment of very loud silence. Anika's head spun; it was too much. Spiders were simpler.

"So--the Circle's just trying to delay Voldemort long enough so that we can translate these runes? Not defeat him--not until we've got the Vessels--just delay him?" _Please let me be right. Please don't let him think I'm an absolute idiot, please..._

Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "There, you see? I give you fifteen minutes' worth of 'briefing', and you spit it back at me in two sentences. You'll fit in perfectly here."

"Sir--" Anika smoothed back her hair. Something still niggled the back of her mind. "Do we know _any_ of the other vessels?"

"We do know one," said Dumbledore gravely, stroking his beard. "Voldemort, unfortunately, knows about him too."

"Who--who is it?"

"Why," said Dumbledore, and the illusion floating over the table vanished, replacing itself with a floating silver tea-tray and a plate of biscuits, "why, it's me."

Anika almost fell out of her chair.

The headmaster smiled. "Cup of tea?"

*

"I should have _guessed_ it!" said Anika furiously. Sirius watched her, amused. "I mean, it was so absolutely _obvious_, it was staring me right in the face, and I had to go asking stupid questions. Dumbledore probably thinks I'm an absolute idiot."

"Of course he doesn't, Ani, none of us guessed it first try..."

"And that's another thing! Who is 'us?' I only know you and Dumbledore...don't you ever have big evil-fighting meetings, so you can get to know all your fellow world-savers?"

Sirius shrugged. "Did he give you a parchment?"

"Yeah...yeah, he did, but it was blank. He said to ask you about it."

"It's codenames. The Circle members only know one another by codenames. On the rare occasions that we meet face to face, we wear masks. It makes it easier that way...we can't possibly betray each other..."

"I could betray you," said Anika, with some grim, twisted satisfaction.

"I don't think you would," said Sirius, half-smiling. "Let me see that parchment. You'll get a list of every codename...hang on, I'll show you something cool..."

Anika produced it from her sleeve. "Now what?"

"Tap it," said Sirius, leaning back in his chair, "and say, _'Sodalitas!'_"

"Sodalitas!" cried Anika, tapping the parchment with her wand. It ran black for a moment, and then the black formed spidery lines and sketched across the paper.

  
  


_Coriolanus_

_Ophelia_

_Mercutio_

_Iago_

_Benvolio_

_Romeo_

_Juliet_

_Hecate_

_Prospero_

  
  


"Who are those?" asked Anika, surprised and admiring. 

"It's every Circle member that you know by real name as well as codename," said Sirius, rather smugly. "Personalized. Isn't that impressive? James and I designed it."

"James?" asked Anika, surprised. "He's--"

"He's here too," confirmed Sirius, frowning slightly. "I guess you must know nine of the members by name...Nominatim!"

More spidery lines danced over the parchment:

  
  


_Coriolanus--Severus Snape_

_Ophelia--Anika Donelan_

_Mercutio--Sirius Black_

_Iago--Peter Pettigrew_

_Benvolio--Remus Lupin_

_Romeo--James Potter_

_Juliet--Lily Whitby_

_Hecate--Minerva McGonagall_

_Prospero--Dumbledore_

  
  


"Better memorize them quickly," advised Sirius, "because the parchment self-destructs in forty seconds."

"R-Remus is here?" stammered Anika through abruptly frozen lips.****_And Snape, _she thought frantically, _Snape..._

"Memorize!" scolded Sirius.

Anika had already memorized; she was now trying to swim through the haze that had enveloped her mind. She hadn't spoken to Remus in two--three?--years, and now he was here...now she'd be working with him...

"Lovely codenames, aren't they?" said Sirius with some amusement. "I get stabbed, you go mad and drown, Peter backstabs his superior, James poisons himself...at least Snape gets chased out of Rome by the unwashed masses and later gets stabbed by his closest ally. That ought to be fun." He peered closer at the sheet. "It's fine for Dumbledore; he gets to be from a _comedy_."

Without any warning, the parchment burst into cold blue flames and, in less than a second, was nothing but a pile of glowing ash.

"I don't want to see Remus," said Anika gloomily, staring at it. "I don't know what he's going to say to me."

"He probably won't say anything," said Sirius, wondering how best to break it to her, "because he..er....he might not..."

"Tell me he's got a girlfriend," said Anika quickly, rounding on him.

"He's got a girlfriend," said Sirius, relieved. "Did I say it right?"

"Oh," said Anika, half-thrilled and half despondent. "Should--should I go visit him?"

"I don't know," said Sirius frankly. 

"I think I should." She wiped her forehead with one sleeve, staring out the window at the peaceful summer grounds, thick with cricket-song and the smell of fresh-cut grass. "Where could I find him?"

"He's probably down the east wing--he's got his own office here, like you."

"Where do you live?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've an apartment up Hogsmeade way, like Lily and James."

"Are they rooming together then?" asked Anika with keen interest.

"Yup. They'll be engaged any moment now, you mark my words. Remus, Peter and I've got a bet on--I say it'll happen in August, Peter says not till November and Remus says December."

"My money for October. I'm glad they're together." Pause. "Well." She got up, finger-combing her thick black hair. "I--I should go."

"Hey." He stopped her, grabbing her elbow and forcing her to turn around. "Where are you having dinner tonight?"

"I don't know--thought I'd run down to the kitchen and pick up some salad makings." She forced herself to appear absolutely unconcerned.

"Well, if you want to you could go with Lil and James and me down to the Newt's Eye. We're meeting around seven, if you're interested..."

"I'll see if I've got time," said Anika, trying to slow down her heart.

"All right. See you round, then."

"R-right."

_See Remus_, she reminded herself, watching Sirius jog out the door and down the stairs. _I think it's about time you got some closure in at least one of these weird-ass "relationships."_

*

Remus tore off his reading glasses and tossed them aside with a quiet oath. The tiny, angular characters swam before his eyes, blurring into thousands of sneering grassblades that crisscrossed into self-satisfied smirks. 

_Runes don't smirk, _he thought irritably. _Get a hold of yourself._

He smeared at his eyes with one thin hand, exhaling wearily. It was only maybe four or five o'clock--he almost imagined he could hear birds, chirping cheerily outside the walls. _Of course you can't hear birds_, he told himself firmly. _There are three feet of stone between you and anything that chirps._

He regarded his parchment of notes with nothing short of disgust. Trying to translate two entire tablets of incomprehensible runes when your only clue to what they mean is four lines in ancient Greek is far from easy or rewarding.

"_Gah_," said Remus, and he meant it.

A shadow fell across the glass pane at the door of his office. Someone knocked.

"'Min,"he muttered, pushing the rune sheets aside.

"Remus?" came a low, familiar voice, trembling.

He looked up, and what should have been a tender reunion moment was somewhat ruined by the fact that he hadn't got his glasses on. A tall, black-haired blur wobbled in front of him. "It's been a long time..." it said, making vague, nebulous motions with one appendage.

"Er," he said, scrabbling for his glasses. "Er--do I--_oh._"

"Oh, indeed," said Anika, trying to smile at him. "Hello, Benvolio."

"_Ophelia_?" he whispered, shocked. Anika, Anika Donelan, Anika Donelan that had haunted his memories and his dreams for three years...she was the mysterious Ophelia, the researcher Dumbledore had told them about?

"I suppose so," she said awkwardly, pulling at one sleeve with her hand. "Yes. Yes, that's me."

She didn't look the way he remembered. At night, he sometimes dreamed that he was at her funeral, and everyone circled round the coffin, burning him with their eyes..._you killed her_..._you did this_...

In the dreams, she was so perfect. In his memories, her hair was smooth and silky, her lips full and smooth, her skin flawlessly white, her eyes as deep and swirling as a midsummer storm. Looking at her now, he realized with clinical detachment that her hair actually fuzzed and snapped around her face in the humidity, that she was covered in freckles, that her mouth was rather too wide for beauty and her face too pointed for perfect femininity. It was rather a shock. She was also sweating slightly, something that she had never done in his dreams. 

Well, perhaps she had in _some _of them.

"I--I've missed you." Remus wanted to say something meaningful, something important and great, but the words refused to come.

"Yeah," she whispered, unable to look at him. "Yeah, I've missed you too."

They watched each other, she twisting her robe anxiously between long thin hands, his throat clogged by the awkward thickness-of-air that occurs between ex-lovers in close proximity.

"You didn't used to wear glasses," she said softly.

"I haven't had a chance to get my eyes fixed," he replied, feeling like an bumbling teenager, feeling like he was dreaming. "You know, ocular magic..bit sketchy...you can't be too careful...I...er...yes."

"Yes," she echoed, staring at the floor. "Well."

"Well."

There was silence for some time.

"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly, looking up.

"I don't know." He was so taken aback by the question that he told the truth without thinking. 

"I was hoping you were happy," she said softly. "I guess it's a bit much to ask."

"I've been working. It keeps me busy."

"It shouldn't have to," said Anika sadly, taking in the scattered papers, the ink-stained desk, so much like her own back at the observatory. "But I just wanted to say hello. I...I'll go." She turned to the door, her small frame silhouetted against the torchlight in the corridor, and then turned back. "Hey--if you want to talk--I've got an office upstairs. I hear you've got a girlfriend..." The ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"You couldn't expect me to beat myself up over you forever, could you?" he retorted, a tiny smile tinging his own lips. "Well, actually, I suppose you could."

"Silly way to behave," said Anika firmly. "I'm sure she's lovely."

He shrugged. 

Her smile grew, just the slightest bit. "Good to see you, Moony."

"Yeah." And he realized what was different about her--those eyes didn't make his breath catch anymore, the grace of her movements didn't clog his throat the way it had at sixteen. Maybe they could be...friends.

Friends.

She closed the door softly behind her, and he looked back down at his papers, unable to stop smiling to himself. 

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/ravenkei.
   [2]: http://virtue.nu/subset



End file.
